Blood of the Planet
by Alyssa2
Summary: It is seventeen years after Meteor, and young Seth Drasil has discovered an unwanted truth about himself. Before long, he is caught up in a new battle for the Planet... and his allies have their own truths to deal with. COMPLETE
1. Prologue Chapter 1 Masamune

Blood of the Planet  
-  
Yes, I'm ever so painfully aware that this story is unoriginal. I know the Sephiroth-returns theme has been done to death. But this idea was gnawing at my brain and wouldn't die, so I finally agreed to write it.   
  
Thanks to Bean and Kupoke and neko-chan for all their help with brainstorming. This fic would have had serious troubles getting developed without them. Bean, in particular, practically cowrote the basic plot. ::tips hat to all::  
  
And the standard disclaimer - I don't own Final Fantasy. Square does. If you saw it in the game, it ain't mine, I'm just playing with it.  
  
Oh - and if you haven't finished the game, there will be SUPER MEGA SPOILERS OF DOOM. I offer this warning because, hey - *I* was seeking out fanfic before I was even past Disc 1....  
  
-  
  
Prologue  
  
-  
  
In all things, there must be balance. Every light casts a shadow, and every night has its stars. For each death, there is a new birth. In all things, the Planet strives to balance itself.  
  
So what happens when the scales are tipped; when the balance is upset?  
  
-  
[Seventeen years ago]  
-  
  
Hidden deep in the northern continent, beyond the Sleeping Forest, lay a city.  
  
It was a beautiful city, larger than most and infinitely more beautiful. Homes were crafted from giant shells or built into the cliffsides. In places the very rock was shaped as though by the hands of gods, shining and perfect. It had been the center of a now-dead civilization, the Mecca of an extinct race. To some, it was the City of the Ancients. To others, simply the Forgotten City. Its true name, along with the secrets that ancient race hid there, was lost to time, as were the benevolent protectors that had once walked those seashell roads.  
  
Most of the city's treasure was also lost to time, but one remained. The most precious treasure of all lay dormant in the city's very heart, the underground capital of this dead holy city. Here lay the most pure and sacred creation of the Ancients, born from the sacrifice of the wisest and greatest among them. Here lay the White Materia, summoned at the moment of the Planet's awakening to do battle with Meteor.   
  
This, the holy Materia, was dying.   
  
The faintest flicker of white light emanated from within the glass circle, the last message of a dying child to its mother. Only moments after, it shattered, with the weak, tiny cry of breaking crystal.  
  
-  
  
Hidden deep in the northern continent, at the very middle of the land, lay a crater.  
  
It was a vast, gaping thing, a bleeding wound on the face of the Planet. Over the years it had eroded, formed a vast network of caves. The subterranean creatures, now exposed to the open air and the living blood of the Planet, had developed and evolved in strange ways to adapt to the new surroundings. The crater was the source of the Planet's pain, open and raw, never quite healed, despite the Planet's best efforts to this end.  
  
And somewhere, deep inside this living maze, was the bane of all things that lived. Born from the blood of unwilling spirits, this was the very evil that even now stung the Planet's wound. The Ancients had once changed it, with their considerable magic, into a temple. There its evil had been forever sealed, changed to benevolence, and guarded by restless Ancient spirits. But time and a desperate quest had returned it to its true form and true feelings. Here in the crater lay the Black Materia, summoned at the height of madness to destroy the Planet.  
  
This, the unholy Materia, was vibrant with new life.  
  
Nobody dared venture into the crater now, and the Materia lay forgotten. But it yet lived, and throbbed with ecstatic energy. It had sensed the death of its rival, and felt its own strength begin to flow unchecked.   
  
And in pieces all over the Planet, something began to awaken.  
  
And the Planet sobbed in anticipation of what was to come.  
  
-  
[One year later]  
-  
  
The little town of Nibelheim was covered in several feet of snow. Winter had hit earlier this year, and heavier than ever before. But the snow did nothing to chill the spirits of the Nibel people. Lights were on in every household, and the cries of triumphant revelry echoed high into the mountains, seeming to cheer even those cold grey peaks.   
  
A dream had come true tonight.  
  
These people had once been actors, smiling with false smiles and living out lives that had never been theirs. They had been put here by the Shinra, simply to create the illusion that Nibelheim had never burned. Nibelheim had been a false town, reconstructed from memories, wavering just at the edge of true reality.  
  
Over time, the desire had grown among some of the false townsfolk to bring it back from the edge, to make it a true dwelling. Secure and peaceful, they had wanted to make Nibelheim more than the stuff of dreams.  
  
The manifestation of this desire lay asleep in his mother's arms in the smallest house in town.  
  
Lucy Drasil smiled up at her husband, her brown eyes rich with joy. He smiled back, his bearded face bursting with pride as he held his wife and son.  
  
Young Seth Drasil slept peacefully, his head pillowed against Lucy's chest. Outside the people of Nibelheim reveled, but this moment, this precious snatch of time belonged only to Lucy, Rowan, and Seth.  
  
"He's beautiful."   
  
Rowan's fingers, made rough from labor and yet infinitely gentle, stroked the baby's soft white hair, held the tiny hand. Lucy sighed in contentment, holding her son a little closer.  
  
"He's real."  
  
The meaning of the statement was not lost on Rowan. He leaned forward to kiss his wife softly, not letting go of Seth's hand.  
  
Seth was the first child born to the new Nibelheim, the first and only true native, the only one who could say that he did belong. Born at the end of January, with hair as pale as the snow outside and eyes as green as new beginnings, he was the first. Snow child, true child, he was the embodiment of all the dreams of Nibelheim. He was a second chance granted, and he was the reason the town was cheering.  
  
He knew nothing. In the perfect innocence of the newborn, he slept on, unaware that he had brought such joy simply by existing, and unaware of the troubles in his future, unaware of blood.  
  
He was the son of the snow, and he was hope embodied.   
  
He was Seth Drasil.  
  
-  
end prologue  
  
-  
  
  
  
  
-  
Chapter 1 - Masamune  
  
-  
  
Seth slumped in his seat, staring out the window with boredom-glazed emerald eyes. The road from Nibelheim to Midgar was ridiculously long, and they had been driving all day long... and the two days before that. His mother, Lucy, insisted that the scenery was pretty and worth the drive.  
  
"We're driving to another continent to look at scenery?" Seth had griped when she made this assertion.  
  
"No," she replied a little tersely. "We're going to visit my sister - your aunt, remember?"  
  
"Well, just a moment ago, you were talking about scenery," had been Seth's retort. "It sounded like the scenery was the purpose of the drive."  
  
Lucy moaned. "I wasn't saying that. I meant that the scenery makes the drive bearable."  
  
Seth had shrugged at that and resumed staring out the window. Sure, the scenery was nice, but right now they were passing through the general area of Costa del Sol. Summer was fading in the rest of the world, but here it seemed to be just beginning. Furthermore, the air-conditioning in their car was out, so it was a little too warm to be completely comfortable.   
  
"At any rate, we'll also be visiting the old Shinra building. It's supposed to be this historical landmark - apparently a lot of things happened there about seventeen years ago... they're using most of the floors as a museum now, but some of it was left as it was... it's seventy floors tall, did you know? I think you'll like it, Seth..."  
  
Seth stared out the window, his eyelids growing heavy. They were on the bridge over the ocean, now, and if he thought about it, he could almost imagine that the highlights on the rippling waters were the gleam of light on swords...  
  
... the long blade slashed downwards shattering the glass and the thing, the gross creation inside fell forward into waiting arms... all those who stood in his way were felled by the sword, as he pulled the monster up out of this cold unfeeling hell that was reaching for heaven and--  
  
"Seth?"  
  
Seth jumped, blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden change of scenery.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Lucy smiled, putting a hand on his arm. "You fell asleep, honey. We're at Midgar."  
  
Seth turned to stare dumbly at the massive city before him. "Oh."  
  
Lucy opened the door and got out. "While you're struggling back to consciousness, I'll get our stuff out of the trunk."  
  
"No, that's okay." Seth fumbled with the handle for a moment before getting his door open and stumbling out. "I'll help."  
  
Slinging his backpack on and hefting his small suitcase out of the trunk, Seth waited for Lucy to get her stuff out and close the trunk before they headed into the city.  
  
Seth's first impression of Midgar was a jarring one. There were a few old photographs of the city back at home, in a shoebox somewhere, and they depicted a gloomy, polluted settlement divided into sectors where you lived your life like a rat in a cage, never even able to see the sky...  
  
The place had been royally redone.  
  
It seemed to be all sunlight and open spaces and green; walkways had been lined with trees and shrubs, the upper plate had been removed, the walls dividing sectors torn down, and in the center of it all, the Shinra building loomed like a lost giant, almost out of place with its cold facade...  
  
"Nice, isn't it?" Lucy smiled at her gawking son. "Close to fifteen years' worth of renovations to the city. Once Sephiroth died, Cloud Strife and his friends all saw to it."  
  
Seth flinched slightly at the mention of Sephiroth. His mother didn't notice. Neither did he.  
  
"They still come to the city sometimes on visits - who knows, we might even get to meet a real hero!" Lucy grinned.  
  
"How old is Cloud?" He had no idea where the question came from, but it was out of his mouth before he could think.  
  
"Well.. it was seventeen years ago, and he was supposed to have been twenty-one when it happened... so, he'd be thirty-eight now." She smiled a little. "Not that you'd know it - I heard he was in SOLDIER. The chemical treatments they put those poor people through are supposed to retard aging and prolong life. He'll probably outlive the entire human race if he doesn't get himself killed first."  
  
'But he wasn't in SOLDIER,' something inside Seth cried, unnoticed even by him. 'He never made it in--'  
  
"I'd like to meet him," Seth said thoughtfully.   
  
"You and me both." Lucy adjusted her grip on her suitcases. "Well, we're not getting any closer to your aunt's house just standing here. Let's go."  
  
-  
  
"Oh, Seth!"  
  
"Mphgp," Seth garbled. His aunt Lena released him, beaming at him.  
  
"You've gotten so tall since the last time I saw you," she sparkled. "And so handsome!"  
  
"Aunt Lena, please--" Seth protested weakly.  
  
"I bet the girls love you back in Nibelheim, hm?" Aunt Lena smiled, then frowned slightly, fingering a strand of Seth's hair. "But I wish you'd dye your hair a more normal color. I mean, really, silver? If you didn't look so handsome, people would think you were an old man."  
  
Seth lightly batted her hand away, putting his hands on top of his head to shield his hair and giving her a sour look. "I *like* my hair."  
  
"Going to stripe it now, Seth?" Lucy joked, earning a blank look from her son. Chuckling, she turned to Lena. "The last time we were here, he was griping about your plans for his hair. His exact words, I believe--" she turned briefly to see that Seth was blushing, "--were 'The next time she tells me to dye my hair, I swear I'm striping it yellow and purple.'"  
  
Aunt Lena laughed and Seth groaned, hanging his head.  
  
"Alright, so I lied," he said. "But dammit, I *like* my hair the way it is!"  
  
Aunt Lena patted him on the head. "I know, dear. So, are you ready to go see the Shinra building?"  
  
"Lena, it was rather warm out, I'm a little tired and Seth fell asleep in the car... could we perhaps go tomorrow?"  
  
"Well, does Seth want to go now?" Aunt Lena turned her gaze on Seth. "If you're too tired, we can set up your bed and let you sleep and go tomorrow."  
  
"No - no, that's okay," Seth replied, feeling strangely alert all of a sudden. "I want to go now."  
  
Lena turned to Lucy, who sighed and smiled.  
  
"Alright, then - let's go. Don't blame me if you fall asleep on the elevator."  
  
It turned out not to be as bad as she'd supposed. 70 floors offered a lot of space for displays, and a placard by the elevator offered a helpful breakdown of what was on each floor. Wanting this to be "educational" for Seth, Lucy and Lena had taken him straight up to the "history of Midgar" floors. It encompassed about three floors, all told - from the history and significant accomplishments of each of the smaller towns that Midgar had once been, to the story of an relatively weak and insignificant weapons dev company that had rapidly risen to fame and become a world power, to how the towns had finally coalesced into Midgar... the last floor had detailed the recent renovations to the city.  
  
In a spot of honor, in the conference room, was the hall of the heroes.  
  
Seth had wandered in there completely by accident, while his mother and aunt were still reading about recent Midgar renovations. In the very room where top Shinra executives had once made their grandiose plans, portraits of the nine heroes that had saved the world from Meteor hung, with brief histories told under the framed faces.  
  
Walking in a sort of reverent trance, Seth slowly circled the room, pausing at each portrait to read the plaques beneath. His fingers occasionally reached out to trail against the wall, but pulled back quickly lest they sully the likenesses of the heroes with their touch.  
  
First and foremost was Cloud Strife. Mako-blue eyes seeming to glow even on paper, he stared out at the world with his mouth set in a grim line, his fair hair set in an array of wild spikes.   
  
Aerith Gainsborough's eyes did not glow as did Cloud's, but she seemed to be gazing at something far away, smiling as though in a dream at something that was at once untouchable and just within her grasp. Last of the Cetra. Last to be born, last to die.  
  
Tifa Lockhart. Barret Wallace. Cid Highwind. Vincent Valentine. Yuffie Kisaragi. Nanaki, also known as Red XIII. The Shinra traitor Thomas Reeve, with his toy Cait Sith body. All had their rightful spot on this wall.  
  
Seth turned, smiling as if in a trance, to leave the room. However, as he turned, a tenth portrait caught his gaze and made his heart skip a beat.  
  
The face bore such a resemblance to his own that for a single insane moment, he thought he'd somehow earned a spot among the heroes. The moment passed, and he drew nearer to inspect the portait more closely. A small brass plaque beneath the portrait bore a single word: SEPHIROTH.  
  
Seth's eyes traveled back up to meet the cold, slitted Mako eyes of the portrait for a moment, before he turned to read the writing on the panel beneath the plaque.  
  
/Famous for his skills as a general and swordsman, Sephiroth might once have been a good man. However, he was used in the most complete experiment of the Jenova Project, and this warped him beyond all redemption. Driven insane by the lies and delusions he had been fed his entire life, as well as the Jenova cells implanted in his body before birth, Sephiroth nearly destroyed the world in his rage. He is said to have burned down the town of Nibelheim (later rebuilt by Shinra); murdered Aerith Gainsborough, last of the Cetra; and summoned Meteor in his quest for godhood. Nobody knows whether it was the original Sephiroth or not that committed these acts, but it is certain that he met his final defeat at the hands of Cloud Strife./  
  
/His giant sword, Masamune, has become a thing of legend. It is said that only Sephiroth was capable of wielding this sword, through a strange psychic link to the blade. The nature of this bond is even now not understood, and the current location of Masamune is unknown./  
  
Seth stood in awe for a moment, reading over the words again and again. 'Man, was he ever messed up...' He frowned, stopping at the description of Sephiroth's exploits. 'So he burned down what became my hometown, committed genocide, and tried to blow up the Planet? Damn, if anyone ever needed anger counseling, it was him.'  
  
He couldn't resist another glance upwards at the portrait. Now he knew who this guy was, he couldn't help but be disturbed at the similarity in their appearances. Sephiroth looked dangerous with his long silver hair and glowing Mako-green eyes, a man on the verge of insanity, something worse than a predator... Seth was almost repulsed to share a likeness with him... almost...  
  
"Here he is! I found him, Lucy!"  
  
The sound of his aunt's voice jolted Seth out of his reverie as he turned to see both Lucy and Lena heading towards him.  
  
"Seth, warn someone before you run off like that!" Lucy scolded, catching up to her son.  
  
"Sorry," Seth grinned weakly. "But, hey, look what I found." He gestured to the portrait.  
  
Lena blinked at the picture, slightly taken aback. "So that's what Sephiroth looked like..."  
  
"He looked like you, Seth," Lucy said bluntly.  
  
"I noticed." Seth was still staring at the picture. Longer hair and the predatory eyes... those were the only real differences... if he stared long enough, he could imagine that those eyes were yet alive...  
  
He shuddered suddenly, jerking his gaze from the madman's portrait.   
  
"Let's go," he said abruptly. "I'm a little tired."  
-  
The trek back to Lena's house was slow and quiet. Lucy and Lena chattered at each other, catching up on recent news, cheerfully oblivious to anything else. Seth slumped behind them, his hands deep in his pockets, yawning loud and long on occasion. Despite the slouch in his posture and the tired glaze of his eyes, he could not stop thinking about the portrait in the museum.  
  
That portrait evoked deeper feelings in him than mere surprise at the similarity of their appearances, things he could never name, no matter how hard he tried... vague, disturbing thoughts of crimson and flame and moonlight shining bright on swords and blood on glass... and above it all, there was one word, one word that whispered to him again and again, in a tone like the chafe of steel against leather.  
  
Masamune.  
  
The giant sword that only Sephiroth's hand could wield. The thin steel blade that had slain so many, destroyed so much. Bonded to Sephiroth by unbreakable ties, perhaps the blade had learned thoughts and a life of its own.   
  
He didn't know why the blade was occupying his thoughts so completely. But it was exciting to think of the sword of legend as a living thing, waiting patiently for its owner to come back to claim it, whether for peace or for war. Waiting.  
  
Masamune would wait as long as it took.  
  
Seth sighed and yawned again. Lucy turned to face him briefly.  
  
"Cover your mouth when you yawn," she chastised. "And stand up straight."  
  
Seth complied with her directions sleepily, his head still filled with thoughts of legendary swords.  
  
-  
  
Sephiroth.  
  
Sephiroth.  
  
Sephiroth, come to me.  
  
I've been waiting... waiting seventeen years for this.  
  
Pull me from my scabbard. Let me taste blood. Let me shine.  
  
The righteous or the wicked... it makes no difference when the blood spills. Take me from my prison. Give me blood.   
  
Sephiroth...  
-  
Seth's eyes flew open.  
  
He was lying on the slightly lumpy pull-out bed in Lena's house, beside his mother. The silver light of the nearly full moon outside fell across the bed in a blade-thin line, in stark contrast to the dark of the room.   
  
The faint, thin, hissing voice from his dreams echoed in his head, whispering in words that Seth couldn't make out, but which were irresistably compelling.  
  
/Se... th.../  
  
Seth sighed, staring at the ceiling. 'Just peachy. I'm hearing voices now. Yay.'  
  
/Se... th. Come to me... Se... th.../  
  
'Who are you?'  
  
/... know me... I am yours... Se... th. Come to me.../  
  
'I won't. I need to sleep.'  
  
/Se... th.../  
  
'Good night,' Seth thought fiercely, rolling over. 'Just so you know, I'm talking to Mom and getting a prescription for you tomorrow.'  
  
He closed his eyes, and slept, untroubled by anonymous whispers for the rest of the night.  
-  
As it happened, after a good, silent night's sleep, Seth entirely forgot about the voice in his head, and thus forgot to report it to his mother. The rest of the day was spent touring Midgar, with Lucy and Lena pointing out locations of historical note and Seth dragging them into places of recreational note.  
  
"Seth, dear," Lucy said tiredly, "this was supposed to be an educational visit."  
  
Seth looked up from the skee-ball machine with wide eyes, blinking innocently. "It *is* educational. I'm learning all about the arcades of Midgar."  
  
Lucy groaned, while Lena laughed. Leaning forward conspiratorially, she stage-whispered to Seth, "I think that's mom-code for 'You're spending too much money.'"  
  
Seth stuck his tongue out playfully at his mother. "Let me play this last game and then we'll go."  
  
It was more or less like that for the rest of the day, until Lucy finally insisted that they go back home.  
  
They were just heading towards one of the city's exits, carrying their stuff, when a flash of red caught Seth's eye. He turned his head to see, and his jaw dropped as he identified the man.  
  
Long black hair cascading over his shoulders, held out of his eyes by a red headband... crimson eyes... red cape covering a thin body clad in black... false left arm, resembling a golden claw...  
  
Just leaning against a tree, staring into space, seemingly oblivious to the goings-on of the world around him.  
  
"Oh, Holy," Seth breathed in disbelief. "Mom. Mom, look over there and say I'm not hallucinating."  
  
Lucy turned her head to see, and her eyes widened. "Vincent Valentine?"  
  
Seth's dumbfounded look gave way to a huge grin. "I'm not hallucinating! Hang on, Mom - I'll be right back!"  
  
He had dropped his suitcase and dashed towards the red-eyed man before Lucy could open her mouth.  
  
As for the hapless Valentine, it's safe to say he was a little bit startled when the boy screeched to a halt in front of him, nearly tearing off his backpack and rummaging around inside.  
  
"Hello?" Vincent greeted hesitantly, raising an eyebrow at the frantic boy, before a notebook and pen were thrust at him.  
  
"Here!" Seth said breathlessly. "Mister Valentine, sir, would you please give me your autograph?"  
  
Vincent stared in surprise, blinking at the silver-haired, green-eyed boy that was offering him writing utensils. The resemblance to Sephiroth in looks was undeniable and quite eerie - however, Vincent had a great deal of trouble trying to imagine the Sephiroth he had known asking for autographs with a happy gleam in his eye.  
  
Wordlessly, he accepted the notebook and the pen. "Your name?"  
  
"Seth." The boy was practically glowing.  
  
Vincent signed a brief inscription and handed the notebook and pen back. Seth accepted them with a wide smile, a deep bow, and a babbled "Thank you so much, sir!" and dashed back towards his mother. Smiling softly to himself and shaking his head, Vincent resuming staring into space, absently shifting his position.  
  
One of his feet knocked against something. Looking down, he saw that it was Seth's backpack, forgotten in the boy's exuberance.  
  
Smiling again, Vincent bent down and picked up the backpack, heading into the crowd where he'd last seen the boy. "Seth! Seth, where are you?"  
  
A pair of deep emerald eyes stopped and blinked at him from the crowd. Matching name to face, Vincent moved towards him, holding out the backpack. "You forgot this."  
  
"Oh!" Seth's face lit up in another smile. Setting down his suitcase, he accepted the backpack, shrugging it on. "Thank you!"  
  
Vincent smirked under his cowl. "You're welcome. Now you'd best get going before you leave something else, like your suitcase."   
  
Blushing, Seth picked his suitcase up again with a grin. "Er - yeah, good idea.... Thank you again!"  
  
Vincent nodded and waved, as Seth and Lucy walked away, occasionally glancing back.  
  
'It would seem the resemblance to Sephiroth is entirely superficial,' Vincent decided, turning away as Seth faded from view. 'I should stop worrying so much. It was   
seventeen years ago. I think we are safe.'  
  
-  
  
It had taken Seth a long time to calm down. Having actually met and talked to and *gotten the autograph* of one of the planet's greatest heroes had left him giddy and restless. He and Lucy had chattered almost the entire three-day trip back from Midgar, exchanging speculations as to whether they'd ever see Vincent again, or Cloud, or any of the other heroes.  
  
After barely sleeping on the trip back, Seth had practically passed out when they finally got home.  
  
Only to be awakened in the dead of night by the same hissing voice as before. Except that now it was stronger, and sharper.  
  
'If I'm going to have voices calling me away to do things, can't this at least wait until I've gotten a full night's sleep?'  
  
/If you were to leave during the day, you would be noticed,/ the sharp, metallic voice rang in his head.  
  
'So? I'd tell my mom I was going for a hike. This *is* a mountain town, you know, we do things like that.'  
  
/Then you would have to explain what you returned with./  
  
'What?' Seth had kept his eyes pressed closed up to this point, hoping to sleep, but at this, his interest was piqued. His eyes flew open.  
  
/Come to me, and I will show you./  
  
'Oh no. I want to sleep. Sleeeeep. You know, that nice peaceful thing you do at night?'  
  
/I do not know. I have never slept./  
  
'You poor thing. Well, don't deprive me of doing it.'  
  
/Boy, get out of bed./  
  
'Don't wanna.'  
  
/I can control your body if you push me./  
  
'Do yer worst. And I am so getting pills for you tomorrow.'  
  
/You could put the entire pharmacy in your body and you would not silence me. Now get out of bed./  
  
'No!'  
  
/Don't say I didn't warn you./  
  
Seth sat up.  
  
'Wha? Hey, what the hell?! No! I'm not going anywhere, damn you!'  
  
But Seth's body disagreed. His legs swung out of bed, feet planting themselves on the floor. Pale as a ghost, Seth padded silently across the floor, pausing only to pull on his hiking boots and lace them.  
  
'Stop it!'  
  
/No. I warned you I could control you if you pushed me. It's easier than I thought, though./  
  
'Thanks,' Seth thought bitterly, opening the front door and stalking out.   
  
/It wasn't a compliment. Seventeen years ago, I would not have been able to control you so completely./  
  
'Dude. I wasn't alive seventeen years ago. I don't think I'd even been concieved seventeen years ago.'  
  
/No, you died seventeen years ago./  
  
'If I wasn't alive, how could I die?'  
  
/You never have heard of reincarnation, have you?/  
  
'Great. The voices in my head are sarcastic.'  
  
/I am not a voice in your head. I have a physical form and it is nowhere near your head./  
  
'Which explains why you're talking to me?' They were long out of Nibelheim now, and heading downland, seemingly towards the river.  
  
/We are bound to one another. We have been since the moment I was forged. I have always been yours, and you will always be mine./  
  
Seth muttered an oath as his body began to scale the sloping, rocky ridges that the grey Nibel peaks faded into.  
  
'You've gotta be kidding me! You took me out to climb mountains?' Then he realized what the voice had said a moment ago. 'Wait. Forged?'  
  
/Yes. Forged. Hammered into shape from red-hot metal in a dingy, sooty sort of place?/  
  
'I am so not even going to ask about that.'  
  
/Good. Now climb the mountain./  
  
'I'm DOING that right now. Or you're doing it through me, or whatever.'  
  
/Shut up./  
  
Seth obliged. The mysterious, steely voice also kept its silence. For a good fifteen minutes, the boy's body mechanically dragged itself up the slope, against its owner's will.   
  
He sighed.  
  
'Will you leave me alone after I go wherever it is you're taking me?'  
  
/No./  
  
'Why not?'  
  
/Because I am yours. And you are mine./  
  
'Will you stop saying that? It's creepy.'  
  
/I am yours, and you are mine. I am yours, and--/  
  
'Oh, for the love of the Planet, just shut up!'  
  
He SWORE he heard laughter.  
  
/You're almost at the top now, boy. If I can trust you not to turn back now, I will release you./  
  
Seth looked up at the top of the ridge and the starry sky beyond it, pondering the voice's words.  
  
Well - even if this thing did trust him enough to defer control to him, running away would be pointless because the thing would just take over him again.  
  
'I have no choice here. It's either go down there under my own power, or be taken down there like a puppet. You win - just let me go and I'll go wherever you want.'  
  
/Good boy./  
  
Seth experimentally wiggled his fingers. Satisfied that he had full control back, he pulled himself up the rest of the way and looked down at what was revealed.  
  
A shallow valley with a deep blue lake greeted him. A waterfall flowing from an unseen source fed the lake, which in turn fed the river that split the continent farther down. The soft rushing sound of the waterfall, the moonlight caught and diffused into a million tiny rainbows in the mist, the dark waters of the lake...  
  
Seth took in a deep breath, letting it out again in a long, thin, appreciative sigh.  
  
/Go behind the waterfall./  
  
'Huh? Behind it?' Shrugging, Seth began to clamber down the ridge again. It seemed lower on this side, and his feet were soon on level ground once more.  
  
/Waterfall./  
  
'Yeah, yeah, I'm going, chill out.'  
  
Just beyond the waterfall was a damp, smooth tunnel. Shaking a few droplets of water from his silver hair, Seth made his way carefully into the cave beyond.  
  
A bright white light shone inside this cave, at the far end. Seth took a moment to look around, his eyes wide. The room was perfectly circular, each line and curve seeming to have been sculpted by some divine hand out of white marble. He suddenly felt very guilty about walking on this floor in his dusty hiking boots, as though the very touch were a contamination.  
  
/I am here./  
  
Seth looked around again. "Where?" he asked aloud.  
  
/The throne. I'm on the throne./  
  
Seth looked forward. There was nobody there, just a sword. A very, very, long sword.  
  
'Wait. Do you honestly mean to tell me that you're a *sword*?'  
  
/That'd be me, yep./  
  
'All this time I've been talking to a bloody SWORD?!'  
  
/Hold the applause./  
  
Seth instantly began to applaud loudly.  
  
/I guess I asked for that. Now get over here. Your boots aren't going to make the place dissolve into thin air./  
  
'Heh.' Seth nonetheless attempted to tread lightly as he crossed the cave, lifting the sword from the throne. 'You know, it's extremely embarrassing to think that I was possessed by a sword.'  
  
/Pleased to be of service. Put me on. There's a cord on the scabbard you can tie around your waist./  
  
Shrugging, Seth did so, letting the sword hang at his left hip. "Any further directions, O Mighty Talking Sword?"  
  
/None. You did what I brought you here to do - you retrieved me. Now you can do whatever you like, as long as you take me with you./  
  
'Heh.' Seth drew the sword and held it up to the light, examining the blade. He took a couple experimental swipes. "For such a long sword, you have nice balance."  
  
/Thank you./  
  
"Do I want to ask if you have a name?"  
  
/Well, you've probably forgotten it in the long time we were apart, so I'll refresh your memory. I am Masamune./  
  
The sword clattered to the ground. Seth stood three feet away, staring with wide eyes at the blade.  
  
/That hurt, you know./  
  
"MASAMUNE?!"  
  
/Yes. Masamune. What on the Planet is the matter with you? You could have shattered glass with that shriek./  
  
"Let me get this straight. You are Masamune."  
  
/Yes, I am Masamune./  
  
"The legendary sword of the famous general Sephiroth."  
  
/Legendary? Wow. I'm flattered./  
  
"The sword that ONLY Sephiroth could ever wield."  
  
/Exactly. So why are you surprised?/  
  
"BECAUSE I'M NOT SEPHIROTH!!"  
  
There was a long pause, Seth's scream echoing eerily in the marble chamber.  
  
/You've never heard of logic, either, have you?/  
  
"What's logical about this?! I'm NOT Sephiroth! Sephiroth burned down what became my hometown - he killed the last of the Cetra -" Seth narrowed his eyes. "YOU killed the last of the Cetra."  
  
/No, you were right the first time, it was Sephiroth that did it. I'm just the sword you used./  
  
"DAMMIT, I AM NOT SEPHIROTH!!" Seth staggered back, clutching his head. "I'm Seth! SETH! My name is SETH!!"  
  
/Is it all right if I call you Sephiroth, still? I'm still Masamune, I don't see why I have to call you by a new name when you can still call me--/  
  
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UUUPPP!!!!" Seth screeched. "I'm not Sephiroth! I never did those things! I never WILL do those things!!"  
  
/There's really no use denying this, you know. You drew me. You wielded me. Only Sephiroth can do that. I really don't see any loophole in this logic./  
  
Seth fell to his knees, making a strangled sound, and hunched over so that he was leaning on his elbows. A sob rippled through the chamber as Seth's shoulders began to shake.  
  
Masamune was frankly at a loss. Sephiroth had never shed a single tear, much less broken down the way Seth was now, and Masamune had no idea what to say. It had never had to deal with this before. Unable to sympathize and yet reluctant to make those sobs louder, the sword lay silent as Seth cried.  
  
/You're right,/ it announced at last, its sharp, steely voice rasping into Seth's mind. /You aren't Sephiroth./  
  
Seth looked up slowly.  
  
/You WERE Sephiroth. But you're a new person now. This will take getting used to./  
  
"You have a point too," Seth whispered, hiccuping. "How can I wield you if I'm not Sephiroth?"  
  
/Apparently, our link is deeper than was previously thought. I wonder how it's possible for us to still be connected in this way, even though you have a new name and a new identity?/  
  
Seth sniffled, wiping his eyes, and got to his feet. "Just don't make me do anything Sephiroth would have done."  
  
/Why would I do that?/ Masamune wondered as Seth picked it up and sheathed it.  
  
"You made me come here."  
  
/That is entirely different. I wanted to be retrieved. You retrieved me. Mission accomplished, now go home. I am still yours, to use as you see fit. Righteous or wicked, it doesn't matter to me./  
  
"Thank you." Seth walked towards the exit.   
  
As he ducked under the waterfall, Masamune spoke up again, sounding almost meek. /Hey, Seth -- I don't suppose you could kill something on the way home, could you?/  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
/I'm a sword! I exist to kill things, right? That is the general idea of a sword, right?/  
  
"God, no..."  
  
/I haven't shed blood in seventeen years, Seth. I'm a bit overdue./  
  
"Masamune. Do me a really big favor, and never ask me to kill anything. Talking swords I can deal with. Bloodthirsty talking swords, I can't."  
  
/I wasn't asking you to actively seek out something to kill... oh, wait, maybe I was. Well, I'm not asking that anymore./  
  
"Good." Seth had already started down the other side of the ridge.  
  
/But, uh, if you get into any sort of danger--/  
  
"Yes, Masamune." Seth sighed heavily. "But ONLY in self-defense, understand? I am NOT going to become Sephiroth again."  
  
/Good luck./  
  
While the remark was not given any particular edge, to indicate sarcasm or derision or anything of the sort, it sent a cold chill down Seth's spine.  
  
-  
  
The black chocobo handled the rugged terrain easily, warking happily as it clambered up the mountain without any difficulty. The rider pulled gently at its reins as they reached the crest, signaling it to stop.  
  
The Nibelheim area was beautiful in the fading moonlight, everything painted in shades of silver. Ice crystals sparkled in the air around the peaks of the Nibel mountains, forming a fine, shimmering mist. Farther down the air was strikingly clear, allowing a clear view of the valley below...  
  
The rider narrowed his eyes, his gaze coming to rest on the figure that was moving towards the town. Moonlight shone on short silver hair, and there was a long sword sheathed at the person's side - too long. There was only one sword he knew of forged that large...  
  
A clawed hand gripped the reins tightly as the rider's lip curled in a slight snarl.  
  
'Perhaps I was wrong about the boy...'  
  
-  
  
Seth had been out for a little longer than he liked to think about. Towards the eastern horizon, the sky was beginning to grow lighter and the stars were fading, indicating a coming sunrise.   
  
All NIGHT he'd been out.  
  
"YOU are going to explain this to my mother, sword," Seth growled, cresting another hill. The grey Nibel mountains were coming closer and he could just see Nibelheim, nestled in at the foot of one.  
  
/How can I? She can't hear me. You're the only one with the psychic link to me./  
  
"I'll write down what you say or something."  
  
/And you think that will sound sane and rational? Handing your mother a slip of paper and saying 'Here, this is my sword's explanation for why I was out so late'?/  
  
"Oh, f-- I'm screwed no matter what. I mean, I can't exactly tell her myself, either... 'Yeah, mom, this talking sword got me up in the middle of the night and had me go look for it...'"  
  
/Maybe when she finds out I'm the Masamune, she'll believe you./  
  
"Oh, joy of all joys, to have my mother know that I was the insane megalomaniac who killed people and wanted to become a god."  
  
/You could remind her that it's in past tense./  
  
"Very helpful."  
  
/Seth, don't look now, but I think there's a pack of wolves behind us./  
  
"Now, don't you go changing the subject--"  
  
/Seth. There is a pack of wolves behind us. Can't you hear them growling? I know I'm a great conversationalist, but focus on the outside world for a second!/  
  
Seth sighed in irritation and withdrew his attention from the new presence in his mind - and no sooner was that done than a low, hungry growl reached his ears. Feeling suddenly cold, Seth turned slowly around, to find a group of five Nibel wolves spread out in a semi-circle behind him. Ten icy lupine eyes caught his, each wolf's teeth bared in a snarl.  
  
"Oh, shit," Seth managed to say before the largest one lunged.  
  
'I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm dead I'm dead I'm so dead--' he might have thought - it was hard to tell over his screaming.   
  
There was a scrape of metal against leather and a moon-bright flash of steel, and the wolf that had lunged lay whimpering on the ground in its death throes, bleeding from a slash that had nearly cut it in half. Seth stared at it numbly, feeling slightly sick as he clutched Masamune - how long had the sword been in his hand? Averting his eyes from the sight, he looked at the Masamune. The wolf's blood, instead of dripping down the blade, was... being absorbed... INTO the blade.  
  
This moment of distraction left him vulnerable, and two more of the wolves chose that moment to attack. Seth got one in the ribcage with Masamune's hilt, but even as he sent it flying, the other attempted to bite his leg. A quick swipe beheaded the wolf, leaving Seth to frantically try to shake the head off his ankle. Another wolf got luckier with his arm, tearing into the soft flesh. Seth screamed and managed to get it across the nose with the flat of the Masamune's blade, causing it to yelp and release him.   
  
Two wolves dead, one winded and unmoving, possibly dead. Two still alive.  
  
A swipe of Masamune dealt a fatal blow to one, but left Seth open to attack from another - he swiped downward with Masamune - the wolf saw it coming and jumped backward, then prepared to lunge again, howling... Unable to bring Masamune up in time for another strike, Seth instead shot his hand forward, fingers outstretched --  
  
"FIRE!"  
  
That was when the nightmare began.  
  
The last wolf leapt aside before the spell was even fully cast, loping away from its would-be prey as fast as it could. But the fiery projectile had already dicharged from Seth's hand. Deprived of its intended target, it shot straight ahead like a shooting star--  
  
--straight towards Nibelheim which was closer than Seth had realized--  
  
--striking a house near the town's gates--  
  
--and it went up in a huge conflagration, the fire consuming the dry wood hungrily, flaring into vivid, murderous life.  
  
Seth stared, paralyzed for a moment with disbelief and fear. Around him lay the unmoving bodies of four dead wolves, in his hand lay the sword Masamune, seeming to shine brighter after devouring the blood it had touched, reflecting on its flawless blade the ruddy light from the *flames of his burning hometown*--  
  
It was too much. Human beings are not often rational in the face of all-consuming terror, and so Seth, following one of mankind's most basic instincts, turned and ran as far away as he possibly could from the fire, from the wolves, from the living nightmare that he had brought to life.  
  
It could have been forever that he ran, under the waning starlight and the slowly lightening sky. He dashed across the dewy plains, unable to stop until his legs, screaming for rest, buckled underneath him and sent him tumbling to the ground, Masamune jarred from his hand.   
  
Scrambling back to his feet, he saw the wolf's head with its jaw still clamped onto his ankle. Whimpering in disgust, he seized the creature's jaws and attempted to pry them apart, but death had made them rigid. Desperate to have the thing gone, he groped around for Masamune. Once the sword was in his hand again, he smashed it repeatedly against the wolf's lower jaw until he heard the crack of bone and felt the clamp loosen. With an agonized cry, he tore the head from his leg and threw it away, sickened by the sight and weight and feel of it. It landed with a disgusting splash in the river.  
  
Shaking from head to toe, heart pounding with rapid force in his chest, Seth dropped Masamune in the grass, suddenly doubling over to be violently ill. When he had emptied the contents of his stomach, his retches turned to sobs. He fell backwards and curled up into a little ball, weak and trembling, and sobbed hysterically.   
  
Even in these depths of agony, he could still feel the sharp, moonlight presence of Masamune in the back of his mind.  
  
'I don't even get to have privacy in my own head,' was his last waking thought before he collapsed into blissful unconsciousness beneath the rising sun.  
-  
end chapter one 


	2. Chapter 2 Red and Green

Author's notes: Whee, chapter 2. ^_^ Get ready to see a whole lot of the title colors in this chapter... And Masamune is lots and lots of fun to write. Oh, and that thing about maggots is true, if you didn't know. I love having a nurse for a mother, who can provide medical details for fics... *grins*  
-  
Chapter 2 - Red and Green  
-  
/Seth./  
  
A low moan split the afternoon air.   
  
/Seth, wake up./  
  
Another moan, louder, and then the sound of grass shifting as somebody rolled over. "Wha...?"  
  
/About time. You've been asleep all day, you know. You've probably got a nasty burn, not to mention that wound can't be much the better for having gone untreated so long./  
  
Seth groaned, disliking the lofty, detached tone the Masamune was taking with him. Pulling himself up to a sitting position, he looked around, blinking.  
  
He was out in a wide plain, past the rolling hills of the Nibel area. The grass was lush and wild out here, rippling in the slight breeze. Blinking his sore eyes, Seth tried to push himself to a standing position. His arm protested immediately and painfully to the sudden demand and buckled under him. Moaning weakly, Seth rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled towards the river.  
  
A few mouthfuls of the clear water soothed his throat, and a splash to the face jarred him into full wakefulness. Taking a deep breath, Seth looked down to inspect his battle wounds, not looking forward to what he might see.  
  
His entire right side did feel tender and was starting to turn an angry red. His T-shirt was spattered with dark stains that he could only suppose were blood. His left ankle had bled slightly onto the sock, exposed by the torn boot, but it didn't look too bad from here and he was afraid to look closer.  
  
His right arm, however, had really taken the worst. Deep, scabbed-over gouges tore deep into the flesh, with bone visible in places. The blood that had dripped down his arm had dried in place, the brown streams cracking when he moved the appendage. Hesitantly, he reached over to roll up his shredded sleeve in order to better assess the damage, only to find that it had scabbed to the arm.  
  
Miraculously, he didn't throw up.  
  
Shuddering and averting his gaze from the injury, he pushed himself shakily to his feet with his good arm. He noticed the weak feeling spreading up his left leg at once, but decided it would still support his weight.   
  
Masamune was easily detected, shining brightly where it had been dropped the night before. Seth stepped over to it. The overly long blade gleamed in the afternoon light, all traces of blood from the night before having been absorbed into the metal.   
  
Seth glared at it hatefully for a moment, wishing it gone. 'This is all your fault,' he thought viciously.  
  
/Tsk. You humans always find someone else to blame./  
  
"You called me out of bed in the middle of the night," Seth said icily. "You forced my body, as I recall. If I hadn't been out that night, we wouldn't have been attacked, and I never would have... have..." He made a frustrated noise, dragging one hand roughly through his hair. "All because YOU couldn't wait, I'm homeless and orphaned now. I hope you're happy."  
  
/It's not my fault the wolf dodged./  
  
"No. But it's your fault I was out there to fight the wolves to begin with."  
  
/Why are you so obsessed with finding someone to pin this on? The imporant matter is, what are you going to do now?/  
  
"I'm going to finish what I started," Seth said tonelessly, reaching down to pick up Masamune. Holding it out in front of him, he took a deep breath and swung the sword towards his neck.  
  
It stopped about an inch away, Seth's arms locking up as the Masamune invoked its ability to control the boy's body.  
  
/What, exactly, are you doing?/  
  
"Eliminating the last survivor of Nibelheim," Seth said flatly. "I might as well, right? It's not like I have anywhere to go."  
  
/I am not going to go along with this, Seth./  
  
"Hmmph." Seth sheathed Masamune, and turned towards the river. "Fine. I'll do it some other way."  
  
/No. You will not./  
  
"Try me," Seth persisted, moving stubbornly forward.   
  
/STOP!/   
  
Masamune's voice rang sharp and clear, the chafing, echoing, almost bell-like sound of a blade pulled free from its scabbard. Seth stopped dead, unsure whether it was Masamune taking control of him or his own shock preventing further movement.  
  
/You will not end your life, Seth./  
  
"Why not?" Seth questioned bitterly. "My home town is a pile of ashes by now. My mother was in there. Where else do I have to go? What reason do I have to stay alive?"  
  
/Considering the stock you humans seem to put in your relations to other humans, I'd have thought the possibility of going to your aunt would have occurred to you. I doubt that she would be enormously pleased to find out that her nephew survived the fire that destroyed his home town, only to behead himself the next day./  
  
Seth stared at the ground, feeling guilty. "That's right... I forgot all about Aunt Lena..." He looked up again. "But Midgar's halfway across the world and I don't have any money..."  
  
/Well, there are other towns where you can at least get into contact with her, right?/  
  
"You're being unusually helpful," Seth remarked, starting to move forward and wincing at the pain in his leg.  
  
/I'm your sword./  
  
"You said swords exist to kill people," Seth said dully, kneeling carefully at the edge of the river to judge the depth. There was a shallow spot that he figured he should be able to wade through. He got to his feet with a wince, slogging slowly, weakly forward through the water. It was cold; the water did not merely chill him, but rather seemed to be trying to devour him with its icy touch. It was deeper than he had judged, coming up almost to his shoulders. Gasping against the cold and the slight pressure against his lungs, he fought his way across the river, opposing the current and the water that threatened to burn his skin away with the sheer frigidity of its touch.  
  
By the time he made it to the middle of the river, he was half-swimming, half-dragging himself with Masamune. His injured arm and leg were shocked into numbness, and barely complained at the demands Seth was making on them.  
  
He finally made it to the other bank, dragging himself up onto the dry, warm grass, gasping and shaking violently from the cold. He couldn't feel anything from his elbows down, and his feet were almost as numb. Groaning, he rolled over on his back, freely exposing himself to the sun that, less than an hour before, had been burning him.  
  
/You missed the point, Seth./  
  
Seth turned to stare at his sword. "I thought you'd given up that conversation."  
  
/No. I merely waited until you were not distracted. The point of a sword is not to kill in cold blood for no reason; it is to protect its wielder in a life or death situation. When two clash and one must die, the sword's duty is to ensure that the one who holds it is the one who stands./  
  
"Mph." Seth pulled himself slowly to his feet, fumbling for a bit before finally managed to sheathe the sword. Cosmo Canyon, if he recalled correctly, should be just south of here...  
  
/And that,/ Masamune seemed to whisper as it slid into the scabbard, /is why I am being, as you put it, 'unusually helpful'. I did not slay those wolves so that you could die the next morning from shock and an infected wound. Now move./  
  
Seth wanted to reply with a scathingly sarcastic remark, but his fingers were still numb, his clothes icy and clingingly wet. His ankle stung, and his right arm was slowly starting to feel heavy and useless. His sunburn flared angrily, he felt weak from his dip in the river, and the prior events had left him emotionally exhausted. He simply did not have the strength or the will to be flippant any longer.  
  
And so he dragged himself forward, towards the red cliffs and sands of Cosmo Canyon.  
  
-  
  
The sky around Cosmo Canyon always seemed a little redder from the coppery dust in the air. On the cliffs, the air was always clear, but down among the sands, the sky tended to have a red tinge. During sunset, however, the sky was red no matter where you stood. Those who lived there always said that this place represented life in its purest form; trees crowned the tallest cliffs in emerald, the color of luck and health and growth, and the cliffs themselves were red. Red was the color of blood and fire; fire fought the cold and the darkness so scornful to life, blood was life in liquid form.  
  
Two beings sat in amicable silence at the foot of the time-smoothed stone stairs that led to the settlement above. One was a man dressed in blue, with a shock of wild, untamed golden hair, and bright blue eyes that glowed with an inner light. The other was an animal, red as the cliffs, his body marked by scars and tattoos. He wore a feathered headdress nestled in among his dark red mane. One of his eyes was scarred shut, the other closed in peaceful reflection.  
  
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" the man said softly, watching the sun make its way down the western sky.  
  
"Mm."  
  
"I wonder... what all this'll look like in another hundred, two hundred years. Or a thousand. It's interesting to think about... when all our friends are dead and gone to ashes and only exist in the Midgar museum as empty portraits... we'll still be sitting here and watching the sunset..." He ran his hand through his hair. "Hn... only thirty-eight, and already I'm thinking about stuff like this."  
  
"Do not trouble yourself, Cloud," Nanaki said softly, his good eye still peacefully shut. "We are still young."  
  
"You're still young," Cloud retorted, grinning a bit. "I'm approaching middle age."  
  
"You don't have a middle age," Nanaki returned, opening his eye at last and smiling somewhat. "Remember? You're technically immortal."  
  
"S'the principle of it all." Cloud leaned back against the warm cliff, closing his eyes. "Mm. It's so peaceful right now, I could forget all about all that..."  
  
"Please do," Nanaki murmured. Suddenly, however, his ears pricked up, catching an unfamiliar sound. His good eye snapped open and he jumped to a standing position, his ears cocked, searching for the source of that faint, shuffling, scratching noise. Cloud watched him with confusion, leaping to his feet and following after the red-furred beast as he loped off around a cliff.  
  
They were confronted with a truly wretched sight.  
  
A young man, perhaps around sixteen, was scuffling slowly towards them, leaning heavily against the cliff wall. His right arm, which looked to have been grievously injured, hung limply at his side. His clothes were torn, and as bloodied as the rest of him. His entire body was covered with a thin patina of the canyon's red sands, and an unreasonably long sword hung at his belt, pulling a wobbly trail through the dust.  
  
He looked like a demon, or a lost soul, that had just barely escaped the clutches of Hell.  
  
"Who's that?!" Cloud demanded, gaping openly at the boy.  
  
The tortured soul raised his head slowly. His eyes, set against his reddened hair and dirt-smudged face, were jarringly green and heavy with physical and emotional weariness.  
  
"Help me..." he croaked, just before his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, unable to remain conscious any longer.  
  
Nanaki and Cloud instantly rushed to his side, rolling him over. Cloud gave him a quick look-over, assessing his injuries - at least, until the sword at the boy's hip caught his eye. Now that he got a better look at it...  
  
"Nanaki," he whispered urgently, "this is the Masamune. What would he be doing with the Masamune?"  
  
"Cloud!" Nanaki snapped, growling at his human friend. "At this moment, his sword should be the least of our worries! You carry him up the stairs, I will go and inform Illyra so she can prepare a bed for him." With that, he turned and bolted away as fast as his four legs would carry him. Cloud looked down at the boy and sighed, gathering him into his arms.  
  
The boy's dirtied face looked so wan and sorrowful, unable to find peace even in rest, that Cloud couldn't help but feel compassion for him. His worries about the Masamune were forgotten; this was no spectre of the past, but an injured child carrying more than the weight of his sword.  
  
"Poor kid," he muttered, turning and heading back for the stairs as the sun slipped down behind the horizon.  
  
-  
  
Illyra, the Canyon's doctor, was a stout woman, short and strong with nimble fingers and great knowledge of natural medicine. While not overly 'beautiful' by human standards, she was not entirely unattractive either - she had a plain, simple beauty about her, with her good nature and determined air.  
  
She had made no small amount of fuss when the boy had been brought in, and his circumstances described.  
  
"You say he just passed out in the sand?" she demanded of Nanaki and Cloud, checking over the boy's injuries. "He's had a terrible sunburn - awful wound exposed to the sun all day long - untreated from the looks of it - where did you say he came from?"  
  
"North," Cloud responded, staring at the prone figure on the bed. "From Nibelheim, probably."  
  
"He at least had to cross the river, to get so muddy," Nanaki put in.  
  
"The RIVER? On foot, with this ghastly injury and that sunburn - Holy help the poor boy!"  
  
Illyra stood to her feet and shooed the two past heroes towards the door.  
  
"Out! Out with you both! I can't have anyone getting in my way or distressing the boy any further when he awakens! OUT!"  
  
Thus ordered, Cloud and Nanaki both bowed out meekly. Illyra turned back towards the bed and its miserable occupant. Sitting down by his side, she carefully removed his boots and socks, appraising this wound.   
  
The ankle looked as though it had been bitten, but the flesh had begun to wither away from the holes, leaving slowly-growing pits in the flesh. The arm seemed to have a similar infection. Illyra silently marveled that the boy had sustained no other wounds, and sighed, turning around.  
  
"Aerin!" she called.   
  
Within a few minutes, a young girl stood in the arched doorway that led further into the healer's house.  
  
"Aerin," Illyra continued, "would you be a dear and watch him for me for a while? Tend to his sunburn, there should be a salve on the table. If he wakes up, tell him where he is and what happened."  
  
The girl's green eyes darkened in puzzlement. "Where are you going?"  
  
"To catch flies," the healer sighed, heading out the door.  
  
-  
  
Seth awakened to find himself in an unfamiliar room. He sat up slowly, taking in his surroundings. The walls were carved out of red stone, and there were two exits cut out of the walls. Bunches of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, shelves cut into the wall held any number of potions and medicines, and a small table held a few surgical instruments, as well as a sealed jar full of... on looking closer, Seth could see that the jar contained a small slab of some sort of meat, and the glass chamber was virtually filled with flies. Making a face, Seth looked down at himself.  
  
His clothes had been removed and replaced with a simple sleeveless cotton shirt and loose cotton slacks. All traces of dirt and blood had been washed away from him, and his disheveled hair had been combed. Blinking in wonder, he looked around again.  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"Cosmo Canyon."  
  
Surprised by the response, Seth turned around to face the speaker - a dark-skinned young girl with chestnut hair done up into a ponytail and deep green eyes, seated at the head of his bed.   
  
She was very pretty.  
  
"Uh... thanks," he replied, blushing. The girl smiled back at him.  
  
"They said you collapsed just outside the town," she said as Seth lay back down. "Nanaki found you. Cloud carried you in."  
  
Seth had no sooner settled his head on the pillow than he heard that and bolted back up to a sitting position.  
  
"Please, take it easy!" the girl cried. "You're wounded and my mother hasn't even started your treatment yet!"  
  
"Nanaki? Cloud?!" Seth demanded with wide eyes, ignoring her entreaty. "You mean THE Nanaki and THE Cloud? Red XIII and Cloud Strife?!"  
  
The girl blinked before nodding in slight confusion. "Yes. You've heard of them?"  
  
"HEARD of them!" Seth cried. "They're HEROES! Do you really mean to tell me that Cloud Strife, THE Cloud Strife, actually RESCUED me?!"  
  
"I suppose, wh--"  
  
"That is the COOLEST thing EVER!" Seth whooped. "Just yesterday I got Vincent Valentine's autograph, and now Cloud Strife rescued me! And Red XIII! I wish I'd brought my notebook - Cloud could sign that - I dunno about Nanaki, he could leave a pawprint or something - but how utterly cool! Cloud Strife and Red XIII RESCUED me!!"  
  
His joyful rant, on conclusion, made way for a sudden, unpleasant memory - his notebook had been left in Nibelheim.  
  
He had burned Nibelheim.  
  
The wide grin on his face slowly faded to a shameful frown as he sank back down against the bed.  
  
"What's wrong?" The girl questioned.  
  
"Nothing," Seth replied, wiping his eyes roughly. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it - just bad things at home, that's all."  
  
"How bad?"  
  
"Really bad - I had to leave because of it," he half-truthed. "I sorta got attacked on the way - it's a good thing I had my sword or I wouldn't be here."  
  
Well, you certainly don't seem very experienced," she remarked, apparently respecting his desire to turn talk away from his home. "Not that I can blame you. That sword has to be six feet long."  
  
Seth grinned weakly, but was saved from a response by a stout woman entering the room with a tray. A plate of steaming, delicious-smelling food, a teapot, and a cup graced the tray, which she set down on the bed.  
  
"You must be hungry - I don't suppose you've had a thing to eat all day, poor thing," she fussed. "Go ahead, eat up!"  
  
Seth couldn't have held out even if he'd had any reason to. He attacked the plate with a voracious appetite, hardly pausing for breath until it had been wiped clean. He then poured himself a cup of tea and began to slurp it down.  
  
"I see you enjoyed it," the woman remarked with good humor in her voice.  
  
Seth nodded, swallowing the last of his tea. Chuckling, the lady removed the tray and set it aside.  
  
"What's your name, boy?"  
  
"Seth," he replied. "Seth Drasil."  
  
The woman bobbed her head in acknowledgement. "Pleased to meet you, Seth. My name's Illyra, and this is my daughter Aerin. I'm Cosmo Canyon's healer."  
  
Seth smiled slightly. "So how bad am I?"  
  
Illyra's friendly smile dissolved into a sigh. "I'll be honest. Both the wound on your ankle and the one on your shoulder are infected. The flesh is literally rotting away from the point of injury. If the infection were allowed to spread, the arm and lower leg may need to be amputated."  
  
Seeing the panic on Seth's face, she raised a hand to silence any outbursts. "Fortunately, the infections appear to be progressing very slowly, giving ample time to treat them before they go beyond recovery."  
  
Seth calmed only slightly. "What will you do?"  
  
"You saw the jar of flies, right?"  
  
"...Yes, but what does that have to do with it?"  
  
Illyra chortled. "Everything, my lad, everything. How do you feel about bugs?"  
  
"I have an agreement with them," he said in an airy tone. "They don't get anywhere near me, I don't squash them into oblivion."  
  
Aerin giggled from somewhere behind Illyra, who was also chuckling.  
  
"Well, I'm afraid you'll have to cooperate with them. I caught those flies so that they would produce eggs, and thus maggots. Now, maggots are wonderful for treating infected wounds. They eat away all the infected flesh, but leave the good flesh alone. Entirely natural, with none of the pain or side effects you can get from surgery. Just one of the Planet's ways of treating its children."  
  
Seth stared at the woman with a look of disgust crawling over his face. "You mean... you're going to put those things on my ARM?!"  
  
"And your ankle," Illyra added. "You'll have to put up with the maggots as long as it takes for them to eat the bad flesh."  
  
Seth stared at his arm and then Illyra, in perfect revulsion.  
  
"You're going to let a bunch of little white squiggling crawling disgusting maggots eat my ARM?!"  
  
"I could let it rot away to the bone if you like," Illyra retorted. "Since that appears to be your sword arm, I doubt you want that."  
  
Seth stared mournfully down at his arm.  
  
"You don't have to look at them, Seth," Aerin chided, handing the jar to her mother for inspection. "Look, Mom, I think they're ready."  
  
"At least some of them are," Illyra nodded her agreement. "Alright, Seth, I'm going to put them on your ankle first so you can get used to the idea without having to look at them. If you're really desperate, you can put your right arm off to the side and we can turn the bed so your right side is to the wall. That way you can concentrate more on the rest of the room."  
  
Seth nodded weakly. "Please."  
  
Illyra and Aerin busied themselves doing just that. It took them next to no time, which Seth was privately dismayed at. He'd hoped it would take a little more time, so he wouldn't have to face those maggots just yet...  
  
As promised, however, Illyra applied the larvae to his ankle first so that he could easily avoid looking at them. Despite that, however, he could *feel* the damn little things squirming around in there and eating... He tried very hard not to think about it.   
  
"When the next batch is ready, they'll go on your arm," Illyra warned. "So get used to these little bugs fast. Just get some rest now and let them do the work."  
  
Illyra and Aerin left, then, leaving Seth to stare at the cut stone ceiling in the dark.  
  
'And yesterday, my life was perfectly normal,' he thought despairingly.  
  
-  
  
The black chocobo trotted slowly through the sands of Cosmo Canyon, kicking up small clouds of dust. The boy's heavy-footed trail hadn't faded, which the rider was glad for. He was less thrilled to discover that the tracks joined with two other pairs, and then went up into the town.  
  
"Hmmph."  
  
Vincent Valentine narrowed his eyes and brought his chocobo up the steps that led up to the town. About halfway up, a cave had been carved into the cliff, above where the dusty air stopped. There were several stalls inside, a few of them occupied by the large, colorful birds. Seeing nobody there, Vincent dismounted and led his bird into the cave, opening an unoccupied stall and letting the black chocobo trot in. He shook a few greens from his bag into the feeeding trough, patted the bird on the head as she eagerly attacked the vegetables, and then departed for the stairs.  
  
-  
  
"Vincent!"  
  
Vincent coolly met Cloud's eyes with his own, making no response to the joyful exclamation. Cloud strode forward and clapped a hand heavily on Vincent's shoulder.  
  
"Good to see you again, you old spook!" the swordsman laughed. "Where've you been for the last year or so?"  
  
"Wandering," Vincent replied flatly.  
  
"Still?" Cloud's face twisted into a frown. "It's been seventeen years, Vin. Why don't you settle down somewhere?"  
  
"I don't want to," Vincent replied, still as flat and emotionless as a piece of paper. "I've come looking for somebody."  
  
Cloud's expression turned serious. "Who?"  
  
"A boy, around sixteen years of age. He is close to your height, and bears a passing resemblance to Sephiroth. He should also be armed with the Masamune."  
  
"Why are you looking for him?"  
  
"You may be interested to know what he did to Nibelheim."  
  
-  
  
"Hello?"  
  
Seth opened his eyes, turning towards the girl at the doorway, illuminated in the light of the oil lamp she held. It was the healer's daughter. He smiled and waved with his good hand.  
  
"Hey. Aerin, wasn't it?"  
  
She nodded. "I thought you might like somebody to talk to, if you weren't asleep."  
  
"You were right. I'd really appreciate a chat right now."  
  
Aerin set her oil lamp down on the table next to the bed and sat down. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"  
  
Seth shrugged. "Just talk to me. I don't much care what about, anything will be fine."  
  
Aerin giggled nervously. "Well... I don't have much to talk about, I'm afraid."  
  
"Hmm. Well..." Seth strained to think of something to talk about. "You're the healer's daughter, right? Does that mean you're studying medicine like your mom?" He waved his good arm around to indicate the various medicines in the room. "'Someday my child all this will be yours,' and all that?"  
  
Aerin giggled again. "Well, yeah. But I'm also training myself to fight with a staff on the side."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah - I even made myself a staff to use. Would you like to see?"  
  
Seth smiled brightly. "Sure I would!"   
  
-  
  
Cloud exhaled a small puff of air, taking in all that he had just been told. "What are you going to do to him, Vince? What are you saying about him?"  
  
"Cloud, it is right in front of your face. I thought his outward similarity was only a coincidence, but you know as well as I that only Sephiroth can wield the Masamune. This boy must, on some level, be Sephiroth. He has already attempted one of his former crimes--"  
  
"Vince - shut up. Just shut up."  
  
Vincent narrowed his eyes, but Cloud continued.   
  
"Have you even met this kid? He's nothing like Sephiroth was. You should've seen his eyes light up when me and Nanaki went in to check on him. He almost fell over himself thanking us for saving him, and insisted on shaking hands with me - *and* Nanaki. Sephiroth would have cut my hand off before he'd have shaken it --"  
  
"--and Sephiroth would have cursed my name before he asked me to sign it in his notebook," Vincent interrupted. "I have met him. I signed an autograph for him in Midgar. He did not have the Masamune then."  
  
"Are you saying it changed him?"  
  
"It may have. It may have brought out a part of him that he cannot control. He is dangerous, Cloud."  
  
"Okay. Y'know what, I'll take you to Illyra's place and you can walk right in there and shoot that weak, injured, tired, currently defenseless kid in the head, and that'll make it ALL better, won't it?" Cloud's voice was sharp and bitter. "You're dangerous too, Vincent. You don't see me lopping your head off because there's a *slight* off-chance that you *might* hurt me, do you?"  
  
"Why do you side with him?"  
  
"Because he's a kid, Vince. He's lost, hurt, and scared. Maybe I'm going soft, but I don't see Sephiroth when I look at him. What I see is a sixteen-year-old boy who's wounded and a long way from home." With those words, the swordsman turned his back on his comrade.  
  
"I was not suggesting that we kill him."  
  
Cloud turned his head slightly.  
  
"I wished to talk to him."  
  
"Interrogate him, you mean." Cloud looked up the stairs again.  
  
"If you like."  
  
"Nothing doing, Vince. You wanna give the kid the third degree, wait until he's healed. Wait until he's ready."  
  
"How long until he is healed?"  
  
"Illyra says to give him a few days - a week at the most. After that, he'll probably need to take a little while to loosen up his legs and get used to moving again. Think you can wait that long?"  
  
"I believe I can," Vincent said calmly. "You will not see me again until he is ready to leave. When he is, I will leave with him. Wherever he goes, I will follow."  
  
Cloud nodded once. "Then, goodbye for now. And I hope to all that is holy that you're wrong about Seth."  
  
"As do I, Cloud."  
  
-  
  
"Wow, so you made that yourself?"  
  
Seth's eyes were wide with wonder as he looked at the staff the healer's daughter was proudly displaying to him. It looked to have been carved from a single piece of wood, with elaborate designs whittled down the sides. There were even small hollows for mounting Materia in. The top of the staff had been carved into the shape of an owl, with tribal designs and the emblems of various creatures carved down the sides.  
  
Cloud silently leaned against the side of the doorway, his blue eyes glowing faintly under half-closed lids as he observed the two teenagers.  
  
"Yep! I can handle it pretty well, too. I don't think my mom much likes the fact that I'm learning to fight," Aerin grinned lightly. "I think she'd rather I just become a healer like her." She shrugged. "I am studying healing, though, but... well, I like to know I'm protected. A bunch of healing herbs won't do you any good at all if you don't live to use them."  
  
"Mm-hmm," Seth agreed, then laughed a little. "Of course, if you're gonna use a weapon, you'd better be able to use it well. I'm lucky those wolves didn't chew me up completely!"  
  
"That's why you always carry at least one potion with you, doof," Aerin grinned, poking his nose.  
  
"I didn't know I was gonna get in a fight! I was just... well, out for a walk..."  
  
"So why were you carrying around a weapon if you didn't think you were gonna get in a fight?"  
  
Seth dipped his head. "Um... well..."  
  
"Aerin," Cloud said softly from his position by the door, "don't you think the poor boy needs his rest?"  
  
"M-Mister Strife!" Seth stuttered, snapping to attention and flushing bright red. "No, it's alright, we--"  
  
"Hang on there," Cloud said, walking into the room and raising one hand. "Lay off the 'Mister Strife' business. It's Cloud. Just Cloud."  
  
"Of course, Cloud, sir," Seth said hastily, then blushed. "I mean, uh.... sorry?"  
  
Aerin giggled and Cloud grinned, shaking his head slowly. "Aw, forget it."  
  
"You're right though, Cloud," Aerin said, standing. "He should get some sleep. Mom'll kill me if she finds out I was down here talking to him."  
  
"But - aww," Seth sighed in disappointment. "I wanted to keep talking to you."  
  
"Sorry." Aerin grinned apologetically, then reluctantly left. Cloud looked after her and then turned to Seth.  
  
"Go on and get some sleep. You've got a long recovery ahead of you."  
  
"I know," Seth said miserably.  
  
The blonde man smiled and turned. "I'll let you be. G'night."  
  
"Cloud--"  
  
Seth found himself with nothing to say as the swordsman's glowing blue eyes met his. He wanted to throw himself at Cloud's feet and apologize for everything that he had done as Sephiroth, for burning Nibelheim again, for every real and percieved sin that he could possibly have committed - but none of it came out. None of it would be said.  
  
"G'night," Seth finally finished, defeated.  
  
-  
  
"That should do it," Illyra said the next morning, sealing her jar again. "I'll need to catch some more and get some more food for them, but this should do you for a while."  
  
Seth moaned and looked as far away from his right side as he could.  
  
Illyra had just finished applying maggots to his wounded arm, and had scraped off the ones on his ankle, applying a potion to regenerate the lost flesh. According to her, the wound on his ankle had been too shallow to need more than a night's treatment. Seth wished it had been his arm.  
  
"Just don't brush off or kill the maggots, and your arm should be done in about three days," she told him.  
  
"Just don't mention the maggots to me again and it'll be no problem," Seth sighed.  
  
Illyra ruffled his hair. "You'll just have to live with them, dear."  
  
Seth just moaned again.  
  
Soon after the healer departed, Nanaki padded in on silent paws. Settling himself on his haunches beside Seth's bed, he met the young Nibel boy's eyes.  
  
"Good morning," he greeted cordially.  
  
"'Morning," Seth returned.  
  
"Aside from the obvious, how are you feeling?" The corners of the beast's mouth quirked back in what was probably a smile.  
  
"Tired," Seth replied. "Stiff. Sore. Homesick. Lost." 'Guilty. Unworthy.'  
  
"Well, as soon as your arm is better, either I or Cloud will be happy to escort you to Nibelheim," Nanaki purred, in a slightly misguided attempt to reassure Seth.  
  
"No." Seth stared up at the ceiling. "I appreciate it - really, I absolutely do - but there's nothing for me in Nibelheim now. Not anymore." 'Just a pile of ashes and too many memories.'  
  
"If that is the case, you are welcome to stay here in Cosmo Canyon, then," Nanaki offered. "And I am sorry."  
  
"It's okay. And I hate to decline two offers in a row, but... no, again. I'm heading for Midgar to live with my aunt - the only real family I have left now," he added sadly.  
  
Nanaki moved forward and butted his head against Seth's good hand. "Then, I bid you the best of luck when you leave for Midgar," he said at last, rising to all fours. "I must leave you for the time being. I trust you will remain safe."  
  
Seth grinned and even managed a chuckle. "Sure - but if you come back and find me dead, assume it was boredom, okay?"  
  
Nanaki let out a short, barking laugh as he exited the room. The sound was warm and reassuring for the few moments it lasted.  
  
The warm, soothing feeling the beast seemed able to evoke was destroyed in a moment by a sharp, steely voice.  
  
/So you think there's a danger of you dying of boredom?/ Masamune sounded rather amused. /Well, then, I must protect you, mustn't I?/  
  
"Not you again," Seth moaned. "I was just starting to hope you'd decided to shut up."  
  
/Not as long as you breathe, boy./  
  
"I'm tempted to hold my breath."  
  
/It'll never work./  
  
"Can't you be quiet?"  
  
/Can't you? It would be very awkward if Aerin walked in and heard you talking to thin air, wouldn't it?/  
  
Seth flushed bright red.  
  
'I hate you.'  
  
/I know, I know./ Masamune's voice was lofty and sagacious. /So, what did Illyra say, three days?/  
  
'Yeah. Of course, might I remind you--'  
  
/--I know, I know, it's all my fault and you despise me utterly for putting you in that situation, yes, we've been over this./  
  
'You're still so cold about it.'  
  
/I was given the capacity to think, not to feel. I feel no remorse because it is not something I was ever given the ability to feel. Rest assured that, were I capable, I would most likely be quite ashamed of myself now./  
  
Seth sighed, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to collect his thoughts enough to answer.  
  
'Don't worry... I'll be ashamed enough for the both of us.'  
  
/If it helps at all.../  
  
'What?'  
  
/For what it's worth, I offer my apology. I do agree that had I not called you out, this would not have happened. While I see no point in dwelling on something we can no longer change, I apologize./  
  
Seth did not respond for a time, but slowly smiled, warming slightly to that cool moonlight presence in the back of his mind. 'Thank you.'  
  
/.... You're... welcome?/  
  
Seth let out a slight chuckle and then closed his eyes with a sigh, starting to relax. He stretched out his good hand to pull the Masamune from where it rested on the wall, leaning it on the side of the bed and closing his fingers around the old, worn hilt.   
  
"Thank you," he whispered aloud, closing his eyes.  
  
-  
  
The three days passed uneventfully. Aerin, Nanaki, and Cloud visited Seth often, relieving the cloud of boredom. Seth genuinely looked forward to each of their visits.  
  
Aerin was the same age as he was, making it easier for the two of them to relate. She would spend the day out in the village, and in the evening would return full of gossip, her eyes twinkling as she related the higher points of the day to Seth. While he knew none of the characters she mentioned, the tales were still wonderful to listen to.  
  
Nanaki liked to talk to him about the Planet and his deceased 'grandfather' Bugenhagen. Seth would listen in rapt fascination as Nanaki read to him from "Study of Planet Life" or explained the intricacies of Mako and the Lifestream. The Lifestream was of specific interest to Seth; his mother had once described it as 'the blood of the Planet', when he had been too young to grasp the full definition. Nanaki's description of the flow was more complex, but he himself admitted that 'blood of the Planet' was a good way of describing it.  
  
When Nanaki was not there, Cloud usually was, recounting his adventure of seventeen years ago. The events had apparently made a firm impression on the swordsman's mind, as he had very few gaps in his memory, which Nanaki could usually correct, if consulted. For all his fighting prowess, Cloud had all the makings of a good storyteller, recounting the events in such detail and with such emotion that Seth couldn't help but be absorbed in the tale.  
  
Looking out over the canyon now, still dressed in the plain white clothes Illyra had given him, standing barefoot on the warm stone, Seth flexed his restored right arm and felt a pang of disappointment. He didn't want to leave this wonderful place, as steeped in history and yet devoid of time as it was. He found himself wishing that his aunt lived here, rather than in distant Midgar. It would be a long, long journey.  
  
Was he up to making it?  
  
"Seth?"  
  
Seth jumped and turned to face the speaker. It was Aerin.   
  
"Sorry, did I startle you?"  
  
"...A little." Seth shrugged. "I was just thinking."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"About leaving." He turned to look at the canyon again. "I really don't want to. I'd love to stay here forever. And Midgar is so far away."  
  
"Do you want to see your aunt again?"  
  
"I do. And I really don't have anywhere else to go..." -- "You are welcome to stay here in Cosmo Canyon," Nanaki's words flashed through Seth's mind. He shook his head slowly. "...Nanaki said I could stay here, and I'd love to, but Aunt Lena... What happened to Nibelheim's bound to make it into the news," he said softly. "She'll hear, eventually. She'll worry. She'll mourn. I can't let her suffer like that without giving her one reason to be happy."  
  
Aerin scuffled her feet, looking up at the sky as Seth kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.  
  
"...What happened to Nibelheim?"  
  
"Bad things," Seth said hollowly. "I told you, I had to leave because of it. Let's just say... I don't have a home any more."  
  
Aerin dipped her head once. "I understand. Just... remember, if things don't work out in Midgar, you always have a home in Cosmo Canyon."   
  
"...Thank you." Seth turned to smile at her. The smile turned to an expression of curiosity as he eyed the leather bag slung over her shoulder. "What've you got there?"  
  
"Oh!" She started, as though only now remembering the bag herself. She took it off and handed it to him. "It's for you. It's got your old clothes in it, and your boots, and a gift."  
  
Seth had already pulled out the boots, staring in wonder at the left one. All the damage done to it by the wolf's fangs had been mended. "Who did this?"  
  
"One of my mom's friends. She does sewing and weaving."  
  
After putting his boots back on and stomping the left one against the rock a couple times as if to make sure it was mended, he looked back into the bag and, wide-eyed, pulled out a long, emerald-colored cloak.  
  
"My mom's friend made that too," Aerin put in, but Seth barely heard her, as absorbed in the cape as he was. It was made of a soft, light material that billowed and fluttered in the breeze. Above the simple clasp was a long drape of fabric that Seth took to be a mantle.  
  
"This is for me?" he said, dumbfounded.  
  
Aerin nodded with a smile. "Put it on."  
  
Still in awe, Seth did so, fastening the clasp and then draping the mantle over his shoulders. He looked down at himself with an appreciative smile, liking the cape at once.  
  
"Like it?"  
  
"Of course!" Seth threw an arm imperiously to one side, watching as the cloth flared in response to his motion with proper dramatics. "It's great! What do I owe your mom's friend?"  
  
"Nothing!" Aerin grinned. "It's a gift. Autumn's coming on, and like you said, Midgar's far away. That cape should help keep you warm. She would've given it to you herself, but she's really busy today."  
  
"Next time you see her, tell her I love it and I'm honored half to death," Seth grinned. The grin slowly faded into a sigh. "I don't want to leave..."  
  
"Hey, Seth!"   
  
Cloud and Nanaki were approaching the two, Cloud carrying a leather-wrapped bundle under his arm.   
  
"Hi, Cloud. Hi, Nanaki." Seth smiled. "What's that?"  
  
"Road rations," Cloud announced, handing the bundle to Seth.  
  
Seth was halfway through putting the rations into the bag before he turned to gawk at Cloud. "You bought them for me? You didn't have to--"  
  
"Sure I did." The blond grinned, crossing his arms. "Unless you had a secret stash of gil in your hair or something."  
  
Seth blushed slightly.  
  
"Well... thanks. I guess I'll be going...?"  
  
Cloud nodded. "The chocobo stables are about halfway down the stairs from the village. Talk to the stablehand and he'll get you a good one."  
  
"Thanks." Seth idly wondered just how many times he could say that in one day. He headed slowly towards the stairs. Just as he reached the gate, he turned around to get one last look at the three, who just stood there watching him leave. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and smiled.  
  
"Really... thanks for everything, all of you. I can't say that enough. I... maybe, someday, I'll come back and visit you all."  
  
He studied them all one last time. Ageless Cloud with his spiky hair, Mako eyes, and odd sideways grin; Nanaki with his many tattoos and war scars, the flaming tail and the single wise golden eye; Aerin with her hands folded behind her back, smiling at him encouragingly. The Cosmo Candle burned brightly behind them.  
  
He never wanted to forget them. Any of them. Any part of them.  
  
"Goodbye," he said at last. It was a little more choked than he would have liked, but he didn't notice as he finally wrenched himself away and started down the stairs.  
-  
end ch.2 


	3. Chapter 3 Tears and Sand

A/N: Vaaaaaaagueness at the end, I know. It will all make sense in time, yes it will. And I'm sorry for subjecting everyone to my explanation of chocobo physiology. ^^;  
  
If the style seems to change after Aerin joins up with them (and if the chapter seems to become more rushed in places) it was because (a) The scene with Aerin, Vincent, and Seth in the morning d r a g g e d o n and wouldn't be resolved for anything, so writing was very slow for a while until I finally put that scene out of its misery, and (b) There was no plot in Gongaga, none in Corel, nothing until they got to Costa del Sol, so I had to hop around a bit.  
  
  
-  
Chapter 3 - Tears and Sand  
-  
There were a great many things that Seth had never seen. He had lived in Nibelheim his entire life. Although he knew the Nibel mountains inside out, he'd really only left Nibelheim twice in his life. Once had been his trip to Midgar with Lucy, and this was the second time.  
  
One of the things that he'd never seen, at least up close, was a chocobo. Certainly, he knew what one *was*; they were relatively common birds, and most young children learn the names of common animals, right after they learn their colors, shapes, and letters. But the only chocobos he'd ever seen were made of ink printed on paper.   
  
Walking into the chocobo stables at Cosmo Canyon, Seth decided that his books had not done the birds a speck of justice.  
  
First, the chocobos came in more colors than he'd dreamed they existed in. There were a great number of birds with iridescent emerald-colored feathers, others with pale blue feathers; some with glossy black plumage; and still others in any number of different colors, from ruby red to snow white to even stranger colors like pink and purple... Nowhere in this stable was there a plain yellow bird to be found.  
  
Nor had his early education prepared him in any way for the *noise*; the constant warks and warbles and chirps that the enormous birds constantly produced. With so many here in one place, the air was filled with chocobo cries. Not that the birds had unpleasant voices; they were simply loud.  
  
"Um.... hello?"  
  
His inquiry was almost drowned out by the noise of the birds. But the stablehand, a young man not much older than Seth, heard him and hurried over.  
  
"Yes, sir? How can I help you?"  
  
A little dazed at being referred to as 'sir', Seth found his voice. "Um... I'd like a chocobo, please."  
  
"Well, you're in the right place," the stablehand grinned. "What type would you like?"  
  
"Uh." Seth stared blankly around the stables, at all the different birds. "I don't know. Can you make a recommendation?"  
  
"Where are you going?" The young man seemed to brighten a little.  
  
"Midgar," Seth said. "What would you recommend?"  
  
"Hmm... Midgar? Well, the best one for that would be a gold, but they're incredibly difficult to breed," the stablehand said thoughtfully. "Strong parents produce strong offspring, and most chocobos just don't have what it takes. Next best thing to a gold is a black."  
  
Seth found his eye drawn to the black chocobos. He couldn't surpress a smile; one of *those* sleek, regal birds? He was going to get one of *those*?  
  
"So do you want one?"  
  
"Huh?" Seth blinked his way back to reality. "Oh. Yeah, I'll take a black. Hey, can I ask you something?"  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Can you tell me how the different types of chocobo differ from each other? I don't know the first thing about these things and I'm curious."  
  
The stablehand beamed at the question and nodded. "Sure, I can tell you that!" He held out a hand with four fingers raised. "The first thing you should know is that only four colors are in any way different from most chocobos - these are green, blue, black, and gold. For some reason, chocobos with particular physical abilities are always one of these four colors. All the others are just like your standard yellow chocobos.  
  
"Green ones, like that one right there behind you, are born mountain climbers. Notice how he's a bit bigger than most, and has more muscular legs. The stronger legs allow him to climb where a regular chocobo would be too weak. Also, he's got larger lungs than most chocobos, so he can breathe better in the thin mountain air."  
  
Seth nodded to that. "Yeah, that makes sense..."  
  
"Now this one," the stablehand said, leading Seth over to another stall, "is a river chocobo. They're always blue. Take a look at his legs. They're a lot longer, see? And the body is more streamlined, so he can just cut through even a strong current. These are good sprinters, but they can't carry much weight and they don't have as much stamina as mountain chocobos. Also, they get swept away in deep water."  
  
"So what about blacks?" Seth found himself glancing back over at the dark-colored birds.  
  
"Now, black chocobos are generally born to green and blue parents, and have the same abilities. Notice they're bigger than both? They've got the lung capacity, stamina, and leg strength of the mountain chocobos, but they're also sleek enough to handle rivers just as well as the blues. Their strength also makes them better for transport."  
  
"Wow." Seth stared with newfound appreciation at the huge birds.  
  
"As for golds, they're supposed to be these huge, strong things that can even tackle oceans without any trouble. Nothing gets in the way of a gold. But you can imagine how tough they are to breed."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So, you'll take a black then?"  
  
"Yeah - how much would it cost? I don't think I have any money, but maybe I could get Cloud to lend me some..."  
  
"You're Seth, right?"  
  
Seth blinked, caught off-guard. "Uh, yeah?"  
  
"Yours is free," the stablehand said. "Mister Strife paid in advance for you once you decided you were going to leave."  
  
The Nibel refugee just gaped. "He actually bought my chocobo for me?"  
  
"The best one, too," the stablehand grinned. "He's down this way."  
  
Seth followed in stunned disbelief, glancing around at the different birds. Coming to the stall of a particularly large black, the stablehand took a harness from the wall, fitted it onto the chocobo's head, and then opened the stall, handing the reins to Seth.  
  
"Here you go. His name's Zion."  
  
Seth accepted the strap numbly and then looked up at Zion. The bird had big, friendly grey eyes that studied Seth with just about as much curiosity as Seth studied him.  
  
"Hi, Zion," Seth said gently, reaching out to pet the bird tentatively.   
  
"Wark!" Zion took a big chunk of Seth's hair in his beak.  
  
"Ack!" Seth let go of the strap in a panic and tried to get away. "He's eating me!"  
  
Zion let go and blinked at Seth. "Wark?"  
  
"That's just his way of saying hello," the stablehand laughed. "Chocobos are vegetarians, anyway, he wouldn't find you very appetizing."  
  
"Wark."  
  
With one hand on his damp hair, Seth reached out cautiously for Zion's reins again. "Okay, sorry, Zion. I've never been this close to a chocobo before, though."  
  
"If you're quite through, are you ready to go?"  
  
Seth should have been startled, but he recognized that soft, calm voice. On turning around, he found his suspicions confirmed.  
  
"Vincent?!"  
  
The gunman smirked slightly under his mantle. "So it's 'Vincent' now, not 'Mister Valentine,   
sir'?"  
  
"I got used to being on a first-name basis with Cloud," Seth offered with a grin and a shrug. "Why do you want to know if I'm ready to go?"  
  
"Because I'm coming with you," Vincent said simply, adjusting his hold on the reins of his own black chocobo, who was laden with several leather bags.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I'm coming with you," Vincent repeated. "To keep an eye on you and ensure you are involved in no accidents between here and Midgar."  
  
"You're coming with me?" Seth repeated, staring at Vincent in disbelief. "Cloud bought me food and a chocobo, Illyra's friend gave me a cape, and now you're coming with me to Midgar?"  
  
"Yes. Do you object to that?"  
  
"Not at all!" Seth crowed, tugging on Zion's reins and moving forward. "Let's go!"  
  
-  
  
Riding a chocobo, Seth decided, was not nearly as easy as it looked.  
  
Zion was undeniably strong and quite fast - it was self-control the majestic black needed to work on. After being guided down the stairs to the bottom of the canyon, Zion had taken off at a full sprint towards the south, apparently not caring one bit that his rider was as inexperienced as they came and had NOT been prepared for that dash.  
  
"Break anything?" Vincent asked mildly, stretching out a hand from atop his own chocobo to pull Seth to his feet.  
  
"Ow," Seth said eloquently as he stood, rubbing his posterior. "Just my pride. And once that chocobo gets back here, probably his neck," he added sourly, glaring at Zion, who was calmly trotting back towards them.  
  
Vincent chuckled. "I'm sure he was just eager to get out of the stables."  
  
"Fnh."  
  
"Wark!" Zion, having returned, butted his head affectionately against Seth's.  
  
"Yeah, yeah - you throw me off and now you're my best friend." Seth snorted. "Alright, lemme on. And don't run off this time."  
  
"Wark."  
  
Remounting was a simple matter. After his initial dash, Zion seemed more sedate, and Seth's worries about being thrown again started to fade.  
  
"So."  
  
Vincent quirked an eyebrow. "So. So what?"  
  
"Why're you coming with me?"  
  
"I already told you that. I am escorting you to Midgar, and ensuring that you are involved in no accidents."  
  
Seth narrowed his eyes a bit, scrutinizing the black-haired man's emotionless visage. "I know that. But why? Did Cloud send you? Nanaki? I mean, I don't even know you like I got to know them."  
  
A moment of silence, and then Vincent shook his head. "I was not sent. I chose to accompany you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"That is the question of the day, isn't it?" Vincent snorted. "To be perfectly frank, I am worried."  
  
"And why is that?"  
  
"Your sword."  
  
/Me?/ Masamune tried to sound innocent.  
  
"Oh, Masamune?" Seth swallowed and looked away, self-consciously adjusting his mantle. "Yeah. Sephiroth's sword. I see."  
  
"You are familiar with its background, I trust?"  
  
"Oh yeah." Seth smiled sardonically. "Real familiar."   
  
"Then you understand my concern."  
  
"Better than you know." He spurred Zion on. He could see thick forest ahead, and he was anxious to get on his way. "How long to Costa del Sol?"  
  
"The fastest way would be to go north, and then cross the mountains east of Nibelheim," Vincent said calmly, his ruby eyes trained on the boy.  
  
Seth went pale at the suggestion, yanking suddenly at the reins and pulling Zion to a startled halt. Cruel images danced before his widened eyes - the fire spell miscast, striking his beloved hometown - blood among the ashes, Masamune clasped in his hand as he walked through the flames and smiled as he left the town to burn - no, no, not him, not him, not him at all - but it had been, once.... hadn't it....?  
  
"NO!!"  
  
Vincent quirked an eyebrow at the violence of Seth's reaction, stopping his own chocobo along Seth's. "No? Why is that, Seth? Bad memories?"  
  
The words stung as though deliberately chosen for just that purpose. Seth flinched, trying to shake away the thoughts of Nibelheim as a set of burned-out shells, black as death, standing like cold sentinels in the misty mountain air...  
  
"Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Really bad."  
  
"I see." Vincent ceased his scrutiny and his testing. "Then, we can go south from here. After we cross the river, we go east to Gongaga. We can stay there for a while, then north to Corel. From there, Costa del Sol is just across the mountains."  
  
"Okay." Seth nodded. A gentle prod, and Zion began to amble forward again, Vincent and his chocobo following alongside.  
  
/Gongaga, eh? Your old lieutenant was from Gongaga, if I recall correctly./  
  
'Who?' Seth's face creased into a frown. 'Masamune, I hardly remember anything. Who was my lieutenant?'  
  
/I believe his name was Zax./  
  
"Zax..." Seth whispered the name aloud, testing it, trying to remember the face behind the name.  
  
"Did you say something?" Vincent's voice was cool and silky.  
  
Seth gave a start. "N-no! Nothing!"  
  
Vincent raised an eyebrow silently at this, but let it slide. "Very well. Let's get going; it's easy to get lost in those woods, and we'll stand a better chance in daylight."  
  
-  
  
A full moon hung over Cosmo Canyon that night, giving the area a silver cast. The red cliffs looked dark in the moonlight, the far-off forests faint, glimmering shadows in the distance. The Cosmo Candle burned brightly, a spot of warmth and light in the silver darkness. Only two seemed to be awake at this late hour, and they were both stealing away quietly down the steps.  
  
Aerin Carae clung to the reins of a black chocobo, leading it carefully down the steps. This was beyond the bounds of reason, and she knew very well the amount of trouble she was inviting with this action.  
  
'Mom's going to *kill* me when I come back... or if she catches up to me,' she thought vaguely, swinging herself up onto the chocobo's back. Casting a final glance up at the village and the Candle, she sighed and spurred her mount on and away from her home.  
  
She couldn't have explained why. Cosmo Canyon was where Aerin had been born and raised. She was most at home among the red rocks and cliffside huts of the village, most comforted when she knew the Candle was burning brightly just outside her window. She had no reason to want to leave - even Seth, who seemed so fond of Nibelheim, hadn't wanted to leave the canyon.  
  
Seth. It all came down to Seth. There was no reason for it that Aerin could effectively convey, but she left the canyon to follow him. She didn't know why; she just felt herself inexplicably drawn to the otherworldly Nibel boy, to the point that she could not refrain from following him. It was as though the Planet itself would bleed if Aerin was not with Seth.  
  
Her shoulder-bag had been packed with rations and a change of clothes. A copy of "Study of Planet Life", old and care-worn, was tucked at the bottom of the bag. What space was not taken up by these essentials, was filled with a wide variety of healing herbs and potions. Her staff was strapped to her back. Her good-luck charm was tied into her hair. She was ready.   
  
Only the moon stood sentinel to Aerin Carae's flight from the canyon, in search of the white-haired boy and his nighted escort.  
  
-  
  
One of the things that the Turks were never taught, but learned quickly through sheer necessity, was light sleeping. Those who survived became masters of that fragile art, of snatching rest in the moments where they should not have been able to *breathe* freely, of coming sharply, instantly awake at the slightest indication of danger. Vincent in particular had made that skill as natural as his own breath, learned it in the field and honed it to a fine point in the following years.   
  
Which was why the faint crack of a foot on a twig snapped Vincent awake, his red eyes vaguely luminous in the darkness.  
  
Seth slumbered on, curled up against Zion and huddled up in his cape, but Vincent was sharply aware, where only moments ago he had been peacefully sleeping. Death Penalty was in his hand in a moment, cocked and ready to eliminate any threat to himself and his charge.  
  
Listening, he could hear the faint whisper of footsteps on grass, occasionally crushing a dry leaf. He looked around, hoping to catch some glimpse of whatever danger lurked in the darkness.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
The soft voice caught Vincent slightly off-guard. It was the quiet voice of a young girl - and it came from behind him. He turned around to face the speaker, and found himself staring at a ghost.  
  
It wasn't possible, he knew that, but somehow, sitting atop a black chocobo, looking alive and healthy, was...  
  
"Aerith?" He stopped just short of gasping, his eyes widening in disbelief. There was no way... Aerith Gainsborough was dead... long dead and laid to rest in the City of the Ancients...  
  
The girl blinked and shook her head. "No. I'm not Aerith... do I really look that much like her?"  
  
Belatedly, Vincent started noticing the smaller details. Her hair was shorter, her face and stature considerably younger... the pattern of her clothes was definitely Cosmo, and her skin, even in the moonlight, had a visibly darker tone...  
  
"At first glance, yes," he replied calmly. "You have her face and her hair exactly. She was paler, though."  
  
"I'm from Cosmo Canyon," she said by way of explanation, smiling. "Nanaki never brought it up, but Cloud once told me that I looked like someone he'd known once. I'd never heard of Aerith until that day." Her green eyes flickered over to Seth, little more than a dark ball with a white patch on top in the faint light of the moon. "Is Seth all right?"  
  
"So far as I can tell." Vincent narrowed his eyes. "Why?"  
  
Aerin opened her mouth, then sighed, shaking her head ruefully. "I don't know. I just... I feel like I have to be here with him. Like... like terrible things will happen if I'm not here to stop them."  
  
Vincent crossed his arms, Death Penalty forgotten on the ground. "Rest assured that he is quite safe with me, and go home."  
  
"Please, sir, can't I come with you?" Aerin looked desperate. "I *have* to be here. I won't be able to rest if I just go back now!"  
  
"My name is Vincent." The ex-Turk regarded her coldly for a moment, then sighed almost disgustedly. "Fine. Tag along if you must. You'll find it's not so glamorous as you may think."  
  
"I DON'T think it'll be glamorous," Aerin retorted, dismounting from her chocobo and taking a seat. The bird sank down beside her. "I just think it's necessary. Besides, I'm sixteen. I'm a big girl."  
  
Vincent gave her a look. "Even big girls can be irresponsible," he said calmly, looking very distant for a few moments before returning.  
  
"Hmph. I'll be fine." She eased the bag off her shoulder and unstrapped her staff, lying down with her head on her chocobo's shoulder.  
  
"I trust you will remember those words." Vincent lay back down himself, closing his eyes.  
  
"Good *night*, Vincent."  
  
-  
  
Seth was very much not a morning person. Aerin was up bright and early, and Vincent dragged himself into consciousness not long after, but Seth continued to snooze soundly even as Vincent and Aerin were eating their breakfasts and getting ready to go. Aerin chattered merrily all the while, so most of Vincent's morning was spent resisting the urge to throttle the young Cosmo.  
  
"All things considered, it's probably a good thing I'm coming with you two," Aerin said brightly. "My staff's not that much, but you never know when it could come in handy."  
  
Vincent set his jaw, feeding Mari a handful of greens. The chocobo gobbled them down happily, oblivious to her rider's annoyance.  
  
"Seth and I could have handled ourselves," he said stiffly.  
  
Aerin gave him a look that was so reminiscent of Aerith during one of her more stubborn moments that Vincent faltered for a moment.  
  
"I'm coming along and that's that," Aerin said firmly to the gunman. "I brought along probably more medicines than you can even name; what if I turned back now and one or both of you got sick? Then what would you say?"  
  
Vincent rose to his feet. "I have given you my permission to come along!" he snapped. "What more do you ask of me? Must I give you my blood too?"  
  
"I'd like you to stop being so PISSY about me coming!" Aerin snapped right back.  
  
"This is a matter between Seth and myself; you'll forgive me if I am less than eager to have an innocent getting in the way!"  
  
Aerin opened her mouth for an angry retort - and left it that way, staring in confusion at the man.  
  
"Between you and Seth...? Don't want an innocent getting in the way...?" She turned to look at Seth, then back to Vincent. "Are you saying that Seth's not...?"  
  
Vincent mentally backpedalled, trying furiously and desperately to come up with a good answer to that. He hadn't meant to say that... hadn't meant to let slip even the slightest of his suspicions about the boy...  
  
He was saved from having to answer by the stirring of the boy in question. He and Aerin turned as one to face Seth as he muttered, groaned, and then finally rolled over onto his back and yawned loudly, stretching out and opening his eyes. He blinked sleepily at them from under sleep-rumpled white hair, then smiled vaguely and waved.  
  
"G'morn', Vinc'nt. Morn', Aer'n. Wh'cha doin' h're?"  
  
And just like that, the tension in the air evaporated. Aerin smiled brightly.  
  
"Hi, Seth! I'm coming along with you two!"  
  
Seth managed to wobble to his feet and give Aerin a somewhat lucid smile. "Great! "S'okay with Vincent?" he asked, glancing over at the gunman.  
  
"Yes," Vincent said through his teeth.   
  
"Cool." Seth gave a thumbs-up. "Did I miss breakfast?"  
  
"Officially, yes." Vincent handed Seth a package of trail mix. "Considering that our breakfast consists of this, however, you didn't miss much."  
  
Seth made a noncommittal noise in response, then reached for his bag and pulled out some greens, offering them to Zion. While the Chocobo was eating, Seth started in on his trail mix, sitting back down at the bird's side.  
  
"So," he said conversationally after finishing off a handful, "what made you decide to come along, Aerin?"  
  
Aerin shrugged. "I couldn't resist." A sidelong glance at Vincent. "I... thought it might be nice to get some real world experience."  
  
Seth grinned, nibbling a slice of dried peach. "Well, I'm glad. Vincent won't win any awards for his conversational charm."  
  
Vincent 'hmmph'ed and adjusted Mari's bridle as Aerin started giggling.  
  
"No offense, of course," Seth added.  
  
"Hmmph. Of course."  
  
Finishing another handful of the trail mix, Seth closed the package and put it in his bag. A tug of the reins and Zion, already finished with his greens, got to his feet and allowed Seth to mount him.  
  
"So, are we going?" Seth smiled at his companions. "It's a long way to Costa del Sol!"  
  
"...Indeed." Vincent rose to his feet and calmly mounted Mari. Aerin followed suit with her own chocobo. "Let's go."  
  
-  
  
The mountains were laughing at him.  
  
Literally, of course, they weren't. But they way they loomed up into the air, blocking his view to the west, almost daring him to scale them and look, see for himself what they hid... for all he knew, they could be laughing, deep down inside their rocky hearts.  
  
Look, there he goes; he's the boy who burned Nibelheim. He burned it to the ground and ran away like the coward he is; and off he goes now, running off to cry to dear auntie. If only he climbed up and over us, he could see it, see what's left of his hometown. But he won't; he doesn't have the courage to face it... he's a coward, that's all he is, repeating Sephiroth's sins without even the courage to admit it.  
  
Seth dragged his gaze away from the sloping peaks, ignoring the words he was putting into the figurative mouths of the Corel mountains. He would *hate* to see what he could imagine the Nibel mountains saying about him.  
  
They'd spent the night at Gongaga, as planned, and were now on their way to Corel, in the strange, cool highlands that parted from the blazing Corel desert. The giant amusement park glittered in the distance, its many branches offering as many releases from real life and the worries that came with it as could be crowded under those multiple roofs. Surrounded by the desolate dunes of a desert bordered with quicksand, it was also completely unreachable for the white-haired boy.  
  
'No release for me... I'll just have to settle in with Aunt Lena at Midgar and try to forget as best I can...'  
  
/But you never will./  
  
A chill ran down Seth's spine.   
  
'No... I won't, will I? I destroyed my own home... and Midgar, no matter how well I manage to settle, will never be Nibelheim.'  
  
Whenever he had been upset in the past, or needed to be alone, or just wanted to think, he'd climbed up into the grey peaks that surrounded his town. Sometimes he'd go as far as Mt. Nibel, but usually stayed to the smaller, nearer mountains. There he would perch, about halfway up, and stare at the town below, looking so tiny and far away. When he was younger, he'd play games up there, pretending he was a mighty king looking down from his castle, or one of the playful mountain spirits of old folklore. As he grew older, he'd abandoned his games, but the icy peaks had never lost their magic. On cold days, Nibelheim seemed to sparkle, viewed through the thin, misty air of the mountains.  
  
No more. No more would there be a warm, cozy house to go home to, no more would there be peaceful, quiet little town nestled in among the mountains. Nibelheim had always seemed like a perfect place to Seth; small and cozy and warm and comforting, that kind of slow-moving, comfortable little town where everyone knew everyone else, and if you were hurting, there was always warm cocoa and an understanding mother at home, and friends next door and down and across the street and everywhere you looked.   
  
He had destroyed all that with one little fire spell.  
  
As the little party entered Corel - another peaceful little mountain town, Seth thought fleetingly - he bowed his head and discreetly wiped away a tear.  
  
-  
  
"Seth, look out!"  
  
Aerin's words, well-meant, were unnecessary. Seth twisted away from the sharp projectile, his maneuver ungraceful but effective. The strange-looking monster recalled its silver wheel and Seth went back to a ready position.   
  
Everything had been so peaceful right up until they'd left Corel this morning...  
  
A bullet fired from the Death Penalty struck home, and for a moment, Seth thought he saw something like anger in the painted eyes before the thing opened its 'mouth' again, and...  
  
"WHAT THE--"  
  
"When threatened, Grangalans are able to replicate themselves," Vincent said, somehow sounding calm even as he fired off a few more bullets, this time at the smaller one. "Change of tactics. Attack the smaller one; ignore the first as best you can."  
  
Seth shrugged helplessly and brought Masamune down onto the smaller Grangalan. It dodged and spat out another silver wheel, which was solidly whacked away by Aerin's staff. He smiled and nodded to her gratefully, and she returned the gesture with a victory sign.  
  
"Don't let down your guard!" Vincent's shouted warning was punctuated by the roar of Death Penalty. Even as the smaller Grangalan was dispatched by Vincent's shot, the first one took the opportunity to attack. A third circle, glowing in blue, appeared on the monster's forehead as though traced by an invisible hand, and began to glow with a blinding light. Before anyone could open their mouths to even scream, the light had focused itself into a ray and shot forward. At the same moment, the silver wheel the smaller monster had released before its demise scratched Seth's cheek, drawing a painful line of crimson across his face before it vanished. He blindly struck out with Masamune, the sharp sound of the blade tearing through the doomed Grangalan masking the thud of Aerin's staff falling uselessly to the ground.  
  
The air was eerily still. Seth could still feel his heart pounding and his limbs shaking. This had been only the second fight since he had gotten Masamune, and he still wasn't used to it. He carefully eased Masamune back into its scabbard, his fingers trembling as he did. He could feel blood trickling from the cut on his cheek, could feel the wound stinging as the wind hit it.  
  
He turned his head carefully to face his friend. "Aerin?" he called softly. "Did you bring any--"  
  
The cut was completely forgotten when he saw Aerin. She was on her knees, her tribal-patterned skirt spread out around her. She had wrapped her arms around herself, and was shaking slightly. Thinking she was afraid or in shock - this had probably been her first real battle - he knelt down beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder.   
  
"Hey, Aerin... it's okay, the battle's over, we won... see, we're all in one piece... I'm bleeding a bit but I've had worse, I'm fine... Aerin, it's alright..."  
  
"No it's not..."  
  
Those words were uttered with a slight sob, as Aerin raised her eyes slowly to meet Seth's. They were dark and heavy and glittering with tears, full of an unspeakable sorrow.  
  
"Aerin? What's wrong?"  
  
"Sadness spell," Vincent said with a sigh behind them. "It's a magical poison. It causes a profound sorrow in the afflicted. It does not wear off, either, nor can it be alleviated... it simply remains until the antidote is administered."  
  
Aerin sniffled and bowed her head. "I'm sorry..."  
  
"It's okay, Aerin, you don't have to apologize," Seth said tenderly, pulling the girl into a comforting hug. "Don't worry, it'll all be okay..."  
  
/Save your breath. Nothing you do will be of any use. It's all very good and noble to try and comfort her, but in the end, it won't help her at all./  
  
'Shut up.'  
  
"'I brought more medicines than you can name'," Vincent mimicked Aerin under his breath, so that neither of the teenagers could hear him. He had been looking through Aerin's bag for the proper medicine. However, the fire-red concoction was nowhere to be seen. "We can do nothing for her now," he announced, closing the bag. "The medicine that I do carry is useless for her condition, and she appears to have none of the antidote herself. It will have to wait until we get to Costa del Sol and can purchase some there."  
  
"Are you sure they'll have it?" Seth asked worriedly, still holding Aerin.  
  
Vincent fixed him with his ruby gaze. "It may seem new to you, but this is a fairly common affliction. Many creatures have developed this poison as part of their defenses. The antidote - a medicine called Hyper - is available nearly everywhere."  
  
He strode over to Mari and calmly mounted her. Chocobos were skittery birds in the wild, but tame ones, although they didn't fight, weren't given to abandoning their riders. Seth carefully rose to his feet, pulling Aerin up with him.   
  
"Do you think you can ride?" he asked softly. Aerin nodded faintly in response, then shivered.  
  
"Cold," she whispered.   
  
"Cold?" Seth blinked. "It feels warm to me..."  
  
/It's a common side effect of this condition./  
  
"It's so cold... not like in Cosmo..." Aerin whimpered. "I want to go home... I miss the Candle..."  
  
"Shh. It'll be alright," he said softly, unfastening his cape and draping it around her shoulders. "There, that'll keep you warm, alright? Let's get on our chocobos and we'll be at Costa del Sol by the end of the day. You'll feel a lot better when we get there, okay?" He smiled at her. It went unreturned.  
  
Vincent watched, inscrutable behind his crimson cowl, as Seth helped Aerin up onto her chocobo, returning her forgotten staff to her before climbing onto Zion's back. He watched how, as they moved onward toward Costa del Sol, Seth guided Aerin's chocobo for her, the dark-skinned girl too deep in her sorrow to do more than clutch her staff and hold Seth's cape tightly around her body.  
  
He said nothing, gave no outward reaction to Seth's kindness towards the healer, but he watched them all the way to Costa del Sol.  
  
-  
  
"What do you MEAN, you're out?!"  
  
The shopkeeper cringed back from the angry snow-haired boy.  
  
"I'm sorry! This is high season for Grangalans; a lot of people come down with the affliction, so we sell out of Hyper a lot faster this time of the year! You'll have to wait until tomorrow, when we get the new shipment in!"  
  
Seth ground his teeth in frustration. "Are you ABSOLUTELY SURE you don't have one or two lurking somewhere in your back room? Absolutely positive? My friend REALLY needs just one Hyper..."  
  
The shopkeeper bowed deeply. "Really, I'm quite sure. I've already checked. I hate to disappoint you, but we're really all out of Hyper!"  
  
Seth sighed and backed off. "I guess you're telling the truth. Fine... I guess we have no choice but to wait." He shook his head slowly, looking forlornly out the window. Aerin was sitting on a bench, Vincent sitting next to her in what looked like a very awkward silence. "Poor Aerin..."  
  
He got a nod in answer to that. "Something like this always happens. We always run out at least once or twice and have to make someone wait. It's always hard to watch..." He sighed and shook his head. "But there's nothing we can do. You'll just have to keep her company until tomorrow."  
  
Seth nodded. "Thanks for your time."  
  
"Just wish I coulda helped more," the shopkeeper said with a rueful smile as Seth walked out the door.  
  
The hot Costa del Sol air hit Seth's face as he strode quietly out of the shop, eyes squinting against the bright light. He wasn't sure how much he liked it here. To him, a boy who had spent his entire life in the cold air of the Nibel mountains, everything here was too bright and too hot.  
  
He was mildly amazed that Vincent, in his black attire and heavy red cloak, wasn't melting, or at least suffocating, in the heat. Aerin was still wrapped in his cape, whimpering and shivering. He sighed and walked over towards the two.  
  
"Did you get it?" Vincent's crimson eyes met Seth's. The Nibel boy shook his head slowly, his shoulders slumping.  
  
"They're all out. He said there's so many Grangalans around this time of year that they ran out of Hyper for everyone who came in. They're getting in a new shipment tomorrow, though."  
  
Vincent sighed, looking over at the dark-skinned girl. Between the three of them, Aerin was the only one who even vaguely fit in here, appearance-wise. "I suppose we'll have to stay the night here, then."  
  
Seth nodded, then sat down beside Aerin, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, Aerin. It'll all be better tomorrow morning..."  
  
Aerin jumped to her feet, glaring defiantly at Seth with tear-filled eyes. "You said it would be better when we got here!" she howled. "It's NOT better! You said they could help me here, and they CAN'T! You broke your promise, Seth! I HATE YOU!!"  
  
Sobbing, she tore Seth's cape from around her shoulders and threw it at him. Seth jumped up immediately, leaving the green material there and grabbing the staff that Aerin had, once again, forgotten.  
  
"Aerin! Aerin, wait!"  
  
"Seth!" Vincent grabbed Seth's arm. "Seth, she doesn't mean it, she will be back soon--"  
  
"How do you know?" The boy turned on Vincent, glaring at him with his deep, endlessly green eyes. "What if she DOESN'T come back?!"  
  
Before Vincent could respond, Seth had yanked his arm free, and turned fully around to face the tall man, continuing his tirade. "Think about this, Vincent! She's under a spell of unending sadness! She knew she was going to get medicine when we got here, and if it didn't make her happy, it at least let her know that the pain would end soon, didn't it?! And now that's just been utterly dashed to hell, at least for her, and she has to suffer through an entire day and night of this before it gets any better! And you want me to just sit here and wait like a good little boy for her to come back?"  
  
"Seth..."  
  
"No! No, just shut UP already! If I have to hear you deadpan any more about how 'we can't do anything, we have to wait, we can't help her so there's no use trying', I honestly think I will snap! You and Masamune BOTH have been telling me that there's no point in trying to make her feel better because it won't work - well, you know what? I. DON'T. CARE. I can't just sit back and do nothing while she's suffering like that! I can't just IGNORE her like you both seem to be suggesting I should! I'll do whatever I can - because even if I can't cure her, I don't want her to be alone!"  
  
Breathless and defiant, Seth stared up at Vincent, sharp fragments of emerald meeting deep pools of blood. It was Vincent who broke the silence first.  
  
"Masamune?" he asked softly.  
  
Seth flushed a bit and laid a hand on the hilt of the sword. "Um... yeah. It talks. Only to me though, I think. I don't think it can talk to anyone else."  
  
"Hmm." Vincent nodded slowly, crossing his arms. "It would be in keeping with the bond that is said to exist between the sword and... you, now." He looked out towards the sea, where Aerin had run off.   
  
"If you are so concerned about her, you should go," he said, changing the subject.  
  
Seth was off without another word.  
  
-  
  
So nice, the sea.  
  
In, out, in, out... a neverending languid flow of sweet salt water against the gritty sands. Was there pain to be found under those cerulean ripples? Did sorrow exist there? Standing on a large rock that jutted out from the beach over the water, Aerin wondered.  
  
Perching at the edge of the rock, Aerin spread her arms out like a pair of wings. What would happen if she jumped? Would she find sanctuary from her sorrow, in the soft rushing roaring sighing waters of the sea? What wonders would she discover, as she breathed in the cool ocean, filling her lungs with the heavy salt water?   
  
She thought about finding out.  
  
Rocking forward onto her tiptoes, Aerin spread her arms out again. So nice and peaceful, the sea...  
  
"Aerin!"  
  
She stumbled backwards, turning to face the source of the voice. It was Seth, running like a maniac across the sands towards her, holding her staff in one hand.  
  
"Seth?" she asked numbly, sitting down.   
  
He ran up onto the rock and stopped there, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees, gasping for air. "Hoo... not used to this kinda heat..." He straightened, and handed the staff over. "Here."  
  
She accepted it, looking up at him with her pain-filled eyes, then looking back out at the sea.  
  
"I wonder what it would be like?"  
  
"What?" The white-clad boy sat down beside her.   
  
"To be there... in the sea... do you think the ocean creatures cry, Seth?" There was a gleam in her eyes that Seth didn't like. "Do you think sadness exists down there?"  
  
"Aerin..." Seth put his arm around her shoulders. "Sadness exists everywhere. Even in Cosmo Canyon, where you have the Candle to let you know it's all okay... someone is crying there. Even in Ni..." His voice cracked, but he summoned the will to speak again. "Even in Nibelheim, where it was always so nice and comfortable, there were tears... There's sadness everywhere, Aerin. It's how we deal with it that matters."  
  
Aerin looked at him, her eyes growing dewy with new tears. "Seth... what can I do? This spell won't go away... nobody here can help me... I just want it all to stop, Seth..." She turned away, shoulders shaking. "I want to be able to smile when you're kind to me... I have to see you smile at me and not be able to return it, never be able to return it..."  
  
"Don't say never," he said softly. "Just until tomorrow."  
  
"Never," Aerin replied softly, tears in her voice. "Never. I'll never make it."  
  
"Yes you will." Seth held her tightly. "You will. I'll make sure you live to smile again."  
  
She buried her head in his shoulder. "What if I..."  
  
"I won't let you." He rubbed her back comfortingly. "The Candle is still burning, Aerin."  
  
There was a long silence between the two, broken only by the never-ending rush of the sea.   
  
"Stay with me, Seth?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
And stay with her he did, holding her as the sun set, holding her as the stars came out to play. He ignored the grumblings of Masamune about how very sappy and pointless this all was. If the sword didn't believe there was a meaning to this, he did. Aerin wasn't alone and that was all that mattered.   
  
They fell asleep that way, Aerin curled weakly against Seth, who in turn held her with thin, strong arms, refusing to let her suffer alone.  
  
-  
  
Vincent had found them the next morning, a vial of Hyper clutched in his hand. It was late and the sun was already high in the sky. The two children slept on, oblivious to the passing of time around them, pale Seth and dark Aerin, holding onto each other in slumber.  
  
He had taken care in waking them, offering the precious medicine to Aerin. It had taken effect rapidly, as magic concoctions usually did, and in no time Aerin had been back to her bright and chirrupy self. Seth had made no secret of his relief.   
  
Once Aerin had recovered from the fit of bounciness that cessation of sorrow had brought on, and Seth's cut had been healed, Vincent had bought them tickets for the first available ship to Junon. Aerin and Seth stood at the railing, staring out at the sea, the salt wind tossing their hair and clothes. Vincent sat more calmly elsewhere on the deck. They were one step closer to Midgar, now. Once over the Mythril Mountains, it would be a simple matter of perhaps a day's travel to reach the city.  
  
And where would they all go from there?  
  
Seth would settle into Midgar with his aunt and try to forget the source of sixteen years' worth of memories. He would never succeed, Vincent was sure; he would spend the rest of his life in the world's largest city, trying to forget the silver peaks and his mother and everything that he had loved about his dear Nibelheim, and he never would. And he would never cease to regret.  
  
Aerin would need to be escorted back to Cosmo; her mother would be livid that she had left in the first place, no doubt, but at least if Aerin was returned safely, there would be no more pain of loss.   
  
Vincent narrowed his eyes at that thought, privately despairing. It was too late now. He had let his tests carry a little too long. There was no way to turn the boat around... they were going to Midgar now, regardless. Once his feet touched the soil of the eastern continent, Seth would go on to Midgar and live there, now, and he would never, ever know...  
  
The stoic gunman shook his head and closed his eyes, looking down. No use thinking about that now. Maybe one day.  
  
And what would he do with himself?  
  
Once he had returned Aerin safely to Cosmo, Vincent knew what he would do. He would pull back and become a wanderer of the Planet one more, never settling anywhere. He was undying, and such a creature could not long settle anywhere among mortals.   
  
But perhaps... he might come back to Midgar.  
  
There might yet be time.  
  
-  
end ch.3 


	4. Chapter 4 Gathering Storm

Chapter 4 - Gathering Storm  
-  
Junon, in days long past, had been a military base. Once the home of the powerful Sister Ray, a Mako-charged cannon that had long ago seen its end, the city had gradually changed into a bustling trade center, the largest major port in the world. Seth was rubbernecking almost as much as he had in Midgar. Junon failed to accomplish the same sprawling magnificence as Midgar, but at the moment, it had something infinitely more interesting: people.  
  
Midgar had been crowded, but Junon was absolutely packed, with people from all ends of the Planet bustling about. A few open-air markets had been set up, and the amount of different dialects and languages being spoken all at one time was dizzying, and the diversity of appearance and dress among these people was staggering.  
  
Vincent herded Aerin and Seth in closer to him. "It's the end of the season," he explained calmly, though he had to raise his voice somewhat to be heard above the roar of conversation. "Junon is the trade capital of the world, these days. Everyone's here to get all their business done before the winter storms come and they cannot safely set sail."  
  
Aerin and Seth both seemed all too happy, at first, to stay close to Vincent, clinging to the reins of their chocobos as they led them through the crowd. Nibelheim and Cosmo Canyon were both located in a very rural area, and neither of the two teenagers usually ventured far from home. Seth had already had a dose of culture shock in the form of Midgar, and didn't shrink from the crowd quite as much as Aerin did. However, both soon got used to the hustle and bustle, and nearly broke their necks trying to see everything at once. Vincent just sighed and tried to usher them through the crowd and out of the city.  
  
"I swear I heard someone speaking Wutaiian over there--"  
  
"Why is she dressed so lightly? It's getting cold in this area--"  
  
"Maybe she's from Icicle - wow, look at the clothes that guy's wearing, far out--"  
  
"I think that's a Midelian design but I can't be sure--"  
  
"Dude, look, I think that's a weapons merchant over there!"  
  
"Do I need to get leashes for you two?"  
  
"Sorry..."  
  
They stopped at least five more times on the way out to goggle at some of the merchandise. Street peddlers were out in force, hoping to sell some of their products to visiting foreigners, and Vincent had to firmly steer both Aerin and Seth away from the various things that caught their eyes. Even the chocobos were less inquisitive than the two teenagers in Vincent's care. The sooner they could get out of there, the better, Vincent thought.  
  
To the stoic gunman, it seemed an infuriatingly long time until he could get the two out the gates of Junon. He made a mental note never to accompany small-town teenagers on any trip that involved entering a major city.   
  
"Aww, Vincent..." Seth pouted a little. "Couldn't we have stopped for a little bit to look around?"  
  
"Mari doesn't like crowds," Vincent said, swinging one leg up and over the black bird's back almost as soon as they were outside the city gates. "She would have caused an ugly scene, and your birds would probably have joined her. Besides, I thought you wanted to get to Midgar."  
  
"I do, but..." Seth glanced back at the trade city. "The whole WORLD was there in Junon! Nibelheim was always too small for really big festivals like that..."  
  
Vincent noted the past tense, but said nothing. "That wasn't a festival. That was simply an end-of-season trade gathering."  
  
"Who cares? It was cool!"  
  
"Seth."  
  
"Vincent, you're so cold!" It was Aerin now, already mounted on her chocobo, glaring at the gunman. "We just wanted to stay and look around for a while, that was all. And Stella wouldn't make a fuss," she added, patting her chocobo's neck.  
  
"I have never been noted for being a kind or warm-hearted man," Vincent returned somewhat nastily. "I am only here to escort Seth to Midgar and ensure that nothing happens. The sooner I get him there, the better. Might I remind you that you were not invited; only *tolerated*?"  
  
"I couldn't *help* it, Vincent! What if Seth got really hurt and you couldn't help him? I just want to make sure he's alright, same as you!"  
  
"You have been nothing but a liability! We would have been much better off if you had never followed us!"  
  
Vincent's voice, normally calm and low, rose to a roar on his last words. A resounding silence followed. Aerin bit her lip, trying not to cry, unable to meet the crimson eyes that stared so cruelly at her. One of the chocobos warbled uncomfortably.   
  
"Vincent," Seth whispered. Vincent slowly turned to face him.  
  
Seth's face was twisted into an expression of betrayal and horror. He shook his head slowly. If Aerin was unable to meet Vincent's eyes, Seth could not look away from them.   
  
"I admired you," he said quietly, his voice hoarse.  
  
["I had so much respect for you... I admired you..."  
  
bluesharp eyes filled with hate, eyes that once held praise and glory for me, no more, how pathetic he thinks this world is worth something worth anything and he thinks he can bring me down I cannot die not here not now not yet, Mother's will be done no matter how much blood it takes--]  
  
Seth suddenly shivered, feeling the unnatural cold of a place he knew for a fact he had never been, seeing Cloud's eyes burning fiercely below him up the length of a sword, hearing the words of a boy whose everything has been broken before him and who acts knowing he has nothing left to lose... He cried out desperately, hoping to shatter the illusion, and yanked hard on Zion's reins, turning him sharply and setting him running off towards the Mythril Mountains, straining to escape what he now felt as the dread heat of a fire, and he could hear their dying screams and smell their blood as they perished in the flames that he had set alight, no, it wasn't him it wasn't him it wasn't ever him but it was and he had burned them, burned his home, and it no longer mattered who held the sword who set the flames because they were both him and he was--  
  
/Seth!/  
  
Masamune's sharp steel voice cut through the illusions, stopped the heat of the flames, and brought Seth entirely back to his senses. He was now in completely unfamiliar surroundings, rocky where the Junon area had been flat and grassy. More than a little disoriented, he tugged on Zion's reins to signal a stop. The black chocobo made it a few staggering steps more before gratefully collapsing into a path of grass and laying his neck out flat along the ground, panting in utter exhaustion. Seth gently stepped off his back and onto the grass.  
  
"Masamune?" Seth whispered. "What happened... where am I?"  
  
/You went berserk and ran Zion flat out for a good several hours. You're in the Mythril Mountains now. Vincent and Aerin are somewhere behind you. You were having some sort of a waking nightmare, and I was this close to abandoning any hope of getting through to you.../  
  
Seth stared up at the sky. It was late afternoon, and night was lurking at the eastern horizon. "A nightmare? No..." He shook his head slowly.  
  
/Well, then, what would you call it?/ The sword sounded irritable. /A daymare?/  
  
"No... nightmares are just bad dreams. They're not real." Seth shuddered. In contrast to the illusory heat of the flames, the air felt much colder than it really was. "I wasn't dreaming. I was... I was remembering."  
  
/Yes... Nibelheim./  
  
"Nibelheim." Seth shuddered violently and sank down into the soft grass, wrapping his cape around himself. "God... Masamune, was it really like that...?"  
  
/The circumstances were different... but... yes./  
  
Seth bowed his head, moon-silver hair falling down to form a curtain around his face. "I really am Sephiroth... aren't I."  
  
Masamune said nothing. Seth's hand slowly moved to clasp Masamune's worn hilt, rubbing at the aged bindings. He made no move to break the silence. He didn't need to. That simple touch was all the reminder that was necessary.  
  
It was an ugly truth, and Seth was staring straight at it.  
  
He swallowed back against his suddenly tight throat and rubbed his face against his sleeve as his eyes began to sting. Midgar was close, very close... just a day or two more and he would be safely inside the great city's gates, trying to settle in with his aunt.  
  
But was that really the best thing to do, now? How would he explain his possession of the Masamune? How would he explain his survival of the flames, or the shame he felt must shadow his face now? What if she caught on?  
  
Worse; what if he killed her too?  
  
He could imagine it all too vividly; a moment of insanity, a single instant in which he forgot Seth and acted with the hand of Sephiroth; blood on Masamune's blade and his last family member dead in crimson on the floor... Seth let out a small cry, curling in tighter on himself.  
  
"No!"  
  
Zion lifted his head and blinked tiredly at his rider. Seth didn't see, his face buried deeply in the circle of his arms.  
  
"I won't! Never...!"  
  
Won't I?  
  
-  
  
If there was one good thing about the situation, Vincent decided, it was that Aerin had shut up.  
  
He assumed that Aerin was probably either giving him the silent treatment in an attempt to make him feel guilty - which he already did - or just being nice and trying not to explode. Either way, it suited him just fine. He preferred silence to the near-incessant prattle of the healer. Silence made it easier to think.  
  
'What happened to him?'  
  
Closing his eyes, Vincent thought back on the events of a few hours ago. Perhaps time had cleared his mind...  
  
'He said that he had admired me... using it in the past tense. In retrospect I could have been more tactful, yes, but surely that wasn't what made him run away...?'  
  
No. Seth's actions after those words could not be attributed anything he felt towards Vincent. He had seemed almost to lapse into another world entirely, and his cry had been filled with an agony too deep to have been caused by Vincent's words...  
  
'The way he spurred Zion on... as though trying to escape the gates of Hell itself... he was afraid. He must have been. But what...?'  
  
Vincent's eyes snapped open with a sudden realization. Aerin made a startled noise beside him as he abruptly kicked his heels against Mari's sides. The black chocobo squawked and shot forward. They were nearly at the foot of the Mythril Mountains now, after several hours of traveling, and Vincent now urged Mari towards the rocky foothills, suddenly possessed by a kind of wild desperation.  
  
"Vincent!"   
  
Aerin's voice seemed far away. Vincent paid her no heed, pulling Mari to a stop and climbing - nearly *running* - up the hills, seeming in that moment more like a wild animal than a human. In that moment, he nearly was.   
  
Confused, Aerin spurred Gypsum on, wondering what had happened to Vincent in the span of these few moments. The man who normally gave the impression of a marble statue was suddenly very alive and animated, and alarmingly feral.  
  
A slight wind blew in Aerin's face, and ruffled the dark man's cloak where he stood atop a tall rock. He raised his head slightly, leaning forward a tiny fraction, giving the unshakable impression that he was scenting the air. His claw caught the bloody hue of the sunset, shining unnaturally bright in the dying light.   
  
In that moment, Vincent Valentine looked like a predator in the hunt.  
  
"VINCENT!" Aerin screamed up to him, part of her irrationally afraid that he had lost the faculty of human language and would not understand her, or would turn on her as his prey. Her heart quaked as he turned in response to her call.  
  
But he loosened his stance, and his descent from his perch was calm and controlled, exactly the way Aerin had come to know the man. She saw him seat himself atop Mari's back and ride the black chocobo away from the foothills, back to her side.  
  
"Forgive me," he said coolly, his voice colored with slight undercurrents of what Aerin could swear were shame and embarrassment. "I lost myself for a moment."  
  
Aerin stared at him with wild eyes. "You looked like a monster."  
  
Vincent flinched; visibly and noticably, leaving Aerin instantly regretting her words. But he quickly composed himself again and turned away.   
  
"I apologize. I... had an unsettling thought regarding Seth, and momentarily lost control. I am sorry if I frightened you."  
  
Though she could still feel the pounding of her heart, Aerin shook her head. "What about Seth?"  
  
Vincent turned back towards the mountains. "I have reason to believe that he may be... that he may have memories that... I think he may be the reincarnation of a very destructive man."  
  
Aerin's heart, just calmed, skipped a beat. "Do you mean Sephiroth?"  
  
Vincent stiffened for a moment, and after a long hesitation, nodded.  
  
"Yes. I have believed this for some time. When he fled... it was not because of anything I said, I'm sure of it. Rather, I believe he must have remembered something that Sephiroth did... which would be enough to frighten anyone."  
  
Aerin looked down at her hands. "But how can he be Sephiroth? I mean... he's so gentle. So kind."  
  
"Everyone can change, Aerin."  
  
"But..." Aerin's deep green eyes were pleading. Vincent did not, could not meet them.   
  
"He is somewhere in the Mythril Mountains. I believe he has stopped to rest, perhaps for the night. We may be able to catch up to him. Let's go."  
  
-  
  
The air was thick, heavy. The woman sniffed at the air, testing it. The wind carried the smell of storms. There would be one tonight, then. She looked up to the sky, at the stars.   
  
'Someday.'  
  
She had wandered the face of the Planet for years, slowly recovering, healing from a state beyond death. Searching, for something she knew would ensure her continued existence. She had come too far, done and lost too much to surrender.   
  
A slight current, the barest shiver of movement in the marsh waters, was enough to alert her to the sudden threat. She barely faltered as she stepped away from the snapping jaws, barely seemed to move as, with an infinitely smooth stroke, she snapped bone and sinew, breaking the neck with hardly a thought. She then moved on, forgetting once more the trivial concerns of the world around her.  
  
The body of the Midgar Zolom sank slowly into the marsh. Nobody would see it, or quite believe it even if they did. No creature of the Planet has the strength or skill to kill that snake without leaving a mark, they would say. And they would be right.  
  
Jenova was no creature of this Planet.  
  
-  
  
Seth slowly opened his eyes. As he took in his surroundings, he nearly began to cry.   
  
He was at the base of the Nibel mountains. The cold grey peaks loomed high above him, icy and forboding with their heads crowned in mist. To outsiders, they might have appeared inhospitable and even cruel. To Seth, they were a thing of incredible beauty and a symbol of home.  
  
Home...  
  
"Seth?"  
  
That voice...  
  
Seth turned around. His eyes widened in disbelief, and he forgot to breathe.  
  
Nibelheim. Nibelheim was there... it was standing... and his mother... his mother was alive...!  
  
"Mom?"  
  
Lucy smiled kindly, her short blond hair framing her face, her warm brown eyes infinitely loving. She held out a hand, beckoning Seth closer.  
  
"I'm here, Seth."  
  
"Mom... is it really you?"  
  
He looked around. Everything...! From the worn cobblestone road beneath his feet, to the squeak of the old windmill at the well, to that particular way the town caught the light and seemed to gleam with an otherworldly beauty, and somehow felt so warm even in the dead of winter... It was here. It was alive. The town, his town, his beloved home, it was all *here*... And there she was, his mother, smiling at him, alive and well...   
  
"Mom...!"  
  
He ran to her, throwing his arms around her in an embrace, his tears flowing freely. She was alive, alive!   
  
"Oh, Mom...!!"  
  
Her arms went around him too, holding him tight.  
  
"Shh... don't cry..."  
  
"Mom..."  
  
Silence, an eerie stillness... and suddenly the warm and loving air of the town turned cold...  
  
...Danger!  
  
Seth tore himself from his mother's embrace, emerald cape flaring as he spun around, grasping for Masamune...  
  
...and he woke up in a cold sweat, his hand on Masamune's hilt.  
  
Danger.  
  
/Something's wrong./  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
Zion slept on, his head tucked under his wing in the manner of all birds. His feathered side rose and fell evenly. Seth began to doubt his impulse.  
  
"...I guess it was a nightmare."  
  
/No... there is danger nearby, we both felt it.../  
  
Seth couldn't quite bring himself to disagree. Restlessly, he got to his feet, not taking his hand away from the sword. Something *did* feel wrong.   
  
He didn't see anything, but an upward glance displayed heavy clouds, night-lit in a dull red.  
  
[blazing a dull murderous red in the sky as it fell inevitably towards this pathetic planet, do you see it mother are you proud of me, we will take this world together and we will rule it as we were destined, mother are you proud of me your son--]  
  
'Meteor!'  
  
He could see it now, burning above him, hanging in the sky like a death sentence, and he could feel the weight of the black Materia in his hand, still hot through the black leather of his glove, and he was laughing, his deep voice pitched higher in the ecstasy of madness...  
  
"NO!"  
  
Masamune was in his hand, slicing upwards through the air before he could think. Meteor shattered into fragments before his eyes, and as his vision gave way to normal sight, he could see a woman there. Soft white hair fell in delicate tendrils around her face, framing translucent blue skin and milky eyes... massive membranous wings, a dark violet color, spread from her shoulders.  
  
'Mo...ther?'  
  
She smiled softly, and beckoned to him, calling him closer. Seth lowered his sword arm. He could imagine himself in Nibelheim again, could imagine that face in different shades...  
  
"Mother..."  
  
Her smile grew wider. Seth stepped forward, helplessly compelled, reaching out for his mother.   
  
"Mom..."  
  
"Yes... Sephiroth, I'm here..."  
  
Sephi...roth?  
  
"No!"  
  
He staggered back, Masamune again at the ready.  
  
"You're not...! You're Jenova! You aren't my mom!"  
  
/Seth? Can you hear me now?/  
  
'Huh?'  
  
/There you are. I thought I'd lost you again, for a moment. I was calling and calling and you didn't hear me./  
  
"Jenova."  
  
The woman's attractive face was twisted now into a frown of disdain. She folded one wing forward to conceal herself, turning slightly away from Seth. "I am disappointed in you, Sephiroth."  
  
"I'm not Sephiroth."   
  
"Don't insult my intelligence. You may have new blood, and a new name, but you are and will always be Sephiroth... my son."  
  
"I'm not your SON!"  
  
"SETH!"  
  
The cry was punctuated by a gunshot. Zion bolted awake and squawked in alarm. Jenova cried out, hissing with pain as she clutched her arm. Seth whirled in the direction both the scream and the shot had come from.   
  
Vincent stood calmly on a boulder, the Death Penalty's barrel still smoking. Aerin's colorful skirt flared out behind her as she raced up the path, her staff in hand.   
  
"Aerin! Vincent!" Seth cried in relief. "You're here!"  
  
Jenova spat a curse in a language that Seth did not comprehend, and in the moment that Seth was distracted, spread her wings and took flight. Vincent leapt to higher ground and fired the Death Penalty after her, to no avail. Jenova was gone.  
  
"Seth? Seth, are you alright?" Aerin was at his side in a moment, with a white-knuckled grip on her staff.   
  
Seth smiled at her and nodded gratefully. "I'm fine. I don't know what would have happened if you and Vincent hadn't shown up."  
  
"She's here."  
  
Blinking in confusion, Seth and Aerin both turned to face Vincent. He stood motionless, Death Penalty still in his hand. After a long moment of silence, his shoulders slumped and he holstered his gun. Slowly, very slowly, he turned towards the two teenagers, his face grave.  
  
"Vincent?" Seth's voice quavered a little at the edges.  
  
Vincent sighed with the heaviness of ages, shaking his night-crowned head. "She is *alive*, Seth. Do you understand what this means, the danger we are all in?"  
  
Seth bowed his head. Aerin looked between the two, confused. To her, Jenova was little more than a name, a figure in stories vaguely recollected, tales told in a rich tenor by a man with glowing blue eyes and a kind, too-wise smile... but she had only heard Cloud's stories when she was very young, and she remembered almost nothing of them.   
  
"Yes." Seth's voice was quiet in the gathering storm. "I do understand, Vincent. Cloud... told me, when I was recovering in Cosmo Canyon. He told me the story of your battle, seventeen years ago..."  
  
"Then you know what Jenova was." Vincent locked eyes with Seth. "And what she could still be."  
  
"She was... Sephiroth's mother."  
  
Vincent looked away, closing his eyes. "Not the mother that birthed him, but in a way... she was that. She was what shaped Sephiroth into the monster he eventually became."  
  
"She wants him back, Vincent," Seth whispered. "She wants *me* back."  
  
"Seth?!" Aerin cried, clutching his arm. "What are you talking about?! You aren't Sephiroth! You *can't* be!"  
  
He bowed his head, eyes shut.   
  
"I am," he whispered, his grip tightening on the Masamune.  
  
"No!" Aerin dropped her staff and gripped the boy's shoulders, turning him to face her and giving him a shake. "Seth, it's not true! It's not! It's NOT!"  
  
But the weight, the incredible crushing weight in his fathomless green eyes told her that it was. The fine lines of his face, a child's countenance yet but with strength sleeping beneath, the color of his short silver hair, the long sword he even now held in his hand...  
  
And Aerin *felt* something, a deep and desperate stirring somewhere so far inside her she couldn't begin to name its source. She stumbled back, nearly tripping, staring in disbelief at Seth - yes, it *was* Seth, not Sephiroth, she *had* to believe that he was Seth...  
  
"That is not important, now," Vincent said quietly. "Not anymore. Jenova is alive and you know better than anyone the threat she poses."  
  
Seth nodded, sliding Masamune back into its sheath. "I still don't remember much; just a couple of the really important things. But I do understand. Are you going to fight her?"  
  
"Yes. And so are you."  
  
"Me?" Seth squawked.  
  
Vincent nodded. "My original intention was to take you to Midgar, return Aerin to Cosmo, and be done with it all. However, Jenova takes a higher priority. She *must* be destroyed. I cannot go after her by myself and leave you to fend for yourselves, nor can I simply drop you both off and then go after her. She must be pursued while we actually have an idea of where she might *be*. Therefore, we must go after her together."  
  
Seth glanced over at Aerin, who had retrieved her staff and was clinging to it, wide eyes staring down at nothing. The poor girl might have been learning to fight, but she was still terribly naive. She had grown up someplace warm and safe, and had, by her own insistence, gotten herself tangled up in a battle seventeen years old.  
  
Just as he opened his mouth to say something to her, there was a crack of lightning and a resounding roll of thunder, and it began to rain. Seth pulled his mantle up around his head as a hood and brought Aerin in close to him, covering her with his cape. Zion warked loudly, shifting from one foot to the other, desperate to get out of the storm but unwilling to leave Seth.  
  
"Take Zion down the east side!" Vincent barked, gesturing with his good hand. "Jenova shouldn't be able to fly in this storm. We can take refuge in the mines for the night. You get yourselves safe, I'll bring Mari and Gypsum down!"  
  
As the two youths scrambled to obey his command, climbing up onto the chocobo's back and setting him off, Vincent sighed, heading down to bring the other two birds up.  
  
"Will we never find peace?" he whispered, his voice lost in the lamenting winds.  
  
-  
  
Vincent had constructed a camp fire just inside the entrance to the mines, and the ragged little group was gathered around it in contemplative silence. The sudden rain had soaked them all, so they all huddled close together and close to the fire. It was fortunate that all three of the chocobos were black; bred for river and mountain alike, their feathers naturally repelled water, and their dark color caused them to absorb and retain more heat. The result was three warm, dry birds, doing their very best to help out the cold, wet humans.  
  
Seth lay back against Zion, knees clutched to his chest, staring pensively into the flames. Aerin glanced halfheartedly through Study of Planet Life, trying without success to lose herself in the familiar old words. Vincent simply sat, half-sprawled, eyes closed and arms folded across his lap, looking as though he had managed to fall asleep.  
  
"Seth."  
  
The Nibel boy glanced up, meeting Aerin's eyes across the crackling fire. "Hmm?"  
  
The old book was carefully closed, tucked back into Aerin's bag.  
  
"You aren't... you're not really Sephiroth, are you?"  
  
Seth sighed, dropping his head as though it was too much to hold it up. "I have to be."  
  
"What?" Aerin stood up, staring down at him. "What kind of stupid answer is that?"  
  
"The right one." Seth shook his head, resting his hand heavily on Masamune's hilt. "I can wield the Masamune. Only Sephiroth could ever do that."  
  
"Oh..! The way I heard it is that only Sephiroth could USE the Masamune. I bet anyone can *draw* it. It's so long, I bet Sephiroth was just the only one who ever learned how to use it. Give it to me!"  
  
Seth looked up in surprise at that. "What?"  
  
Aerin held out her hand expectantly. "I said give it to me! Watch, I'll draw it and prove you wrong."  
  
"Aerin..."  
  
"At least let me try!"  
  
Seth looked for a moment as though he wanted to argue, then gave up. He stood up and walked around to Aerin, offering her the sword.  
  
/You know full well that she won't be able to do it. Why are you giving her a chance?/  
  
'She has to understand.'  
  
Aerin wasted no time in grasping the hilt and giving it a good yank. When it did not respond, she frowned and pulled harder.  
  
"Rainwater must've stuck it," she muttered, shifting her grip to use both hands. She then pulled back on it with all her weight, putting everything she had into pulling the sword free, until she finally collapsed to the ground, panting from exertion. The sword had not budged.  
  
"You see?"  
  
Aerin did not see, not with her eyes trained so firmly on the earth beneath her. But she was silent; she understood his meaning all too well.  
  
Seth sighed and sheathed Masamune once more, turning away. He hadn't made it two steps back to his place before Aerin spoke.  
  
"Maybe you were."  
  
She recieved no answer but the slight incline of a moon-crowned head.  
  
"Maybe you were Sephiroth. But no matter how many times you pull out that sword, Sephiroth still died seventeen years ago."  
  
Seth turned slightly, his eyes a little brighter than before.  
  
"You gave me your cape. You wouldn't leave me when I needed you. You've never been cruel."  
  
She looked up, meeting the wide eyes of Seth, and smiled at the wonder on his face. For the first time, she thought she saw something like hope in his eyes, once so dark and heavy with unnamed sorrow.   
  
"So why do you think you're still him? I mean, you haven't even repeated any of his crimes, right?"  
  
The spell was broken; what good Aerin's speech had done was shattered with a single, cruelly innocent reminder.  
  
Nibelheim.  
  
Seth quickly turned away and walked out towards the entrance, his head bowed. Aerin, not knowing that she'd just reopened a very painful wound, got up to follow him.  
  
"Aerin, stop."  
  
She started and turned to face Vincent. His eyes were open and lucid. He'd been awake the whole time.  
  
"Let him be. He has lost more than you know."  
  
Aerin blinked in confusion and looked back in Seth's direction. He was sitting, curled up, just inside the entrance, watching the rain. She sighed and sank back against Gypsum's side.   
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"That is Seth's alone to say."  
  
"Vincent...!" Aerin couldn't really be mad at him, though. He was right. "He won't tell anyone, though, will he?"  
  
"I greatly doubt it." Vincent closed his eyes. "There are some things too painful to talk about."  
  
No more words were exchanged for the rest of the night. Seth eventually came back to the fireside, wrapping himself in his cape and falling asleep beside Zion. Vincent and Mari took up a vigil by the entrance, watching the storm. The moment it was safe for Jenova to travel, Vincent had promised, they would pursue. Aerin rested her head on Gypsum's shoulder, and as she drifted off into a fitful sleep, her last waking thought was to wonder what Seth could have done that was too terrible for him to say. 


	5. Chapter 5 Shadow of Doubt

A/N: w00000t. Merry Christmas one day early, everyone!   
  
I love this chapter. I adore this chapter. Aerin gets character development, Vincent shows emotion, Seth's as schizoid as always and there's a funky dream sequence with ten tons of symbolism. w00t.  
  
Oh - and those three guys at the docks are NOT Laguna, Kiros, and Ward. They just look and act a whole lot like them. ::grins:: Faris Scherwiz is shamelessly ripped off from FFV (NES version), although she's so far removed that she's not really the same character anymore.   
  
BTW, if you've read the last four chapters before and just skipped ahead to this one, I changed the name of Aerin's chocobo from Stella to Gypsum. Don't groan at me, I just wanted to make that clear in case you remembered. ;p  
  
Thanks to my pal Bean for the name of Sydois.  
  
-  
Chapter 5 - Shadow of Doubt  
-  
It was a wet, dreary sort of day that greeted the three travelers as they set out the next morning. The skies were heavily overcast, only the dimmest light filtering through the grey. A fog hung over the Zolom marshes, and the rain from the previous night had not ceased. It was also cold, terribly cold, each breath clearly visible in the frigid air. Seth and Aerin would dearly have loved to stay in the mines until the rain passed, but Vincent insisted that they had to look for Jenova.  
  
Aerin lifted her dark-skinned face to the grey skies, inhaling deeply of the misty air. Such weather should have been depressing, but Aerin liked it. It rained so rarely in Cosmo Canyon, that when the skies did turn silver and weep, it was considered a great blessing. As a child, Aerin had always gone out to play in the rain whenever it did come, and every time had marveled that the Candle never so much as fizzled in the rain.  
  
Thoughts of the Candle brought back a twinge of guilt.. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes. She'd left a note, of course; but what good was that if she wasn't even going to Midgar anymore? Fate had led her to abandon that plan for a possibly futile chase, seeking a creature who could be anywhere on the Planet by now. She let out a cloudy puff of a sigh, opening her eyes to watch it drift away on the wind.   
  
'As soon as we get rid of Jenova,' she thought, 'I'll--'  
  
She couldn't finish the thought.  
  
*What* had she planned to do when Seth's journey came to an end? When he was safely in Midgar, living under his aunt's wing, living far away from whatever torturous memories he held so tightly? Surely Aerin couldn't stay there with him. To abandon the Canyon like that would be unthinkable, and Aerin knew perfectly well that she could never hope to live in the city. She was a born Cosmo, and her home would always be in the red sands.  
  
Yet to leave Seth seemed almost as preposterous as abandoning her home.  
  
Aerin shook her head; this was impossible. She couldn't leave Seth, and she couldn't stay with him. Unless Seth changed his mind and settled in Cosmo with her, Aerin was in a situation that could not be resolved. The only way to get herself out of this loop would be, it seemed, simply not to exist.  
  
She gave herself a mental smack. 'That's being ridiculous,' she chided herself. 'Seth will be fine without you once he's in Midgar. You can't always be around to keep an eye on him; just accept it.'  
  
A loud sneeze from beside her interrupted her thoughts. She turned her head to face Seth, who was bent over on Zion's back, soaked through and shivering.  
  
Aerin immediately felt terrible; absorbed in her own silly little thoughts, wrapped in the warm green cape that Seth had insisted on lending her, she hadn't even given a thought to his suffering. Her hands moved beneath the folds of the mantle, undoing the clasp and drawing the cloak from around herself before she could think, holding it out to Seth.  
  
"Here," she said.  
  
Seth immediately shook his head.  
  
"I'm used to the cold."  
  
Aerin did not withdraw her arm. "You're sick. Take it."  
  
"I don't deserve it."  
  
Aerin's eyes widened in surprise. "What?"  
  
Seth shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Just take the cloak. You need it more than I do, I'll be fine... really..."   
  
"We're nearly there," Vincent called back to them from the front of the small formation. "We can stop and rest there before pursuing Jenova further."  
  
Seth lifted his head and gave Zion's reins a shake. The massive chocobo trotted forward reluctantly but obediently, glancing back at Aerin as he did. The desert girl was left behind, her arm still outstretched, still holding Seth's cape.   
  
Though she did withdraw her arm and follow her companions, did keep pace with them all the way to the small port, she did not put the cape back on.  
  
-  
  
Sydois was not the most developed of towns; in fact, one could hardly call the small settlement a town at all. Houses were spread loosely out over the area, connected to each other by a winding dirt road. A tidy-looking little inn graced one corner of the town, along with a few shops. The road led out of the town, to the docks. The entire town was so small that Vincent thought he could have walked around the entire perimeter in less than half an hour. It was understandable, of course; the town was only about ten years old.  
  
The rain had stopped, and the sky cleared; so it was with some anxiety that Vincent paced the muddy road of Sydois, looking for anyone who might have witnessed Jenova passing by. His only comfort was that Jenova would probably not travel in broad daylight, when she could be easily noticed.  
  
Slightly uneasy, he glanced back at the inn, where he had left Aerin and Seth to relax while he searched for leads. He had had some reservations about leaving Seth there, and he was still fighting a mad urge to dash back to the boy, wrap his arms around him, and tell him everything that he had been hiding.  
  
The boy's mental condition was deteriorating. He had been unhappy before, but ever since they had left Junon, Seth had been retreating farther and farther into himself, drowning himself in the bloodstains on his hands. Vincent wondered what Seth had seen in that moment outside the gates, what Jenova had told him in the mountains, to begin the shattering of a once-innocent boy.  
  
"--saw an angel, I swear--"  
  
Vincent stopped and glanced up. While he had been preoccupied with his thoughts, he had found his way to the docks. Three men stood by one of the larger ships. Two of them -- a lithe, thin man with dark skin and a massively tall man with a scarred face -- were laughing at the one Vincent had overheard, a robust individual with long black hair, who looked frustrated nearly to the point of tears. Vincent discreetly moved into a shadow, listening to the conversation from a distance.  
  
"Sure you did, Brent, sure you did," the dark-skinned man laughed. "And what did your angel look like?"  
  
Brent huffed. "You ain't gonna believe me," he said, with a distinct Midelian drawl. "I know you ain't."  
  
"Tell us anyway," said the third man. "If you won't describe it, we'll have to automatically assume you're lying, and not just crazy."  
  
Brent sighed. "A'right, a'right. She had blue skin, and these great big purple wings, and masses of white hair, kinna like the moon... she flew by real fast and the rain was pretty heavy so I didn't get a good look at'er -- stop LAUGHIN'! I KNEW you wern' gonna believe me..."  
  
Vincent usually spoke with a very polite and dignified tone, but he had acquired quite an impressive inventory of swear words over the years, and he muttered every single one of them under his breath as he hurriedly moved towards the men. All three of them looked up when they heard the clacking of his boots against the wood of the docks, and gaped once they recognized him. Vincent was used to it, but it still annoyed him. At least, it did when he wasn't focused on more important things. Like now.  
  
"Excuse me," he said, coming to a stop. "I happened to overhear your conversation - you say you saw an angel?"  
  
"Aw, don't mind Brent," the dark man grinned. "He's a good enough man but he's a little bit crazy--"  
  
"I SWEAR I saw it!" Brent roared. "I couldn' believe it either, thought I'd gone as crazy as these two say - but she was REAL--"  
  
"What did you say she looked like again?" Vincent said, trying to keep the urgency out of his tone.   
  
"Beautiful woman," Brent replied. "Blue skin. Huge purple wings. White hair, an' lots of it..."  
  
"The wings - they weren't feathered, were they? More like flesh taking the shape of wings?"  
  
Brent looked absolutely astonished. "Yeah. Yeah, thass right... confused me a bit but I didn' know what else she could be, if not 'n angel... d'you believe me?"  
  
"Yes," Vincent said, his voice strained. "I do. I have seen her, I'm looking for her - which way was she going?"  
  
The drawling man paused to throw a triumphant smirk at his wide-eyed friends before turning back to Vincent. "South. To Mideel."  
  
"Are there any ships in port now that are going to Mideel?"  
  
Here the dark-skinned man appeared to find his nerve, stepping forward and shaking his head. "No. Our ship just got in and it's the last one. Winter's setting in and the storms are coming. Nobody's going to go out on the open sea now, especially not after last night's storm."  
  
Vincent bit back a colorful piece of profanity. "I see. There is no way, then, that I could get to Mideel immediately?"  
  
The dark man shook his head. Vincent nodded and bowed politely.  
  
"I'll be leaving, then. Thank you for your help."  
  
He swore under his breath all the way back to the inn.  
  
-  
  
"Here, take it."  
  
Seth mumbled and shifted in bed limply.   
  
"It'll make you feel better."  
  
He mumbled again and curled up tighter. Aerin sighed.  
  
"Seth, for the love of the Planet, will you just take it already?"  
  
Weary green eyes flickered partway open, then shut. Seth took a deep breath and stretched, in a sleepy and rather put-upon way before he scooted up into a halfway sitting position and stared sleepily at Aerin.  
  
"Here." The Cosmo offered him a small bowl full of a dark red fluid. "I know it looks kind of bad, but it's just a potion. It's a great cold remedy."  
  
Seth eyed it dubiously, then slowly extricated his arms from under the fluffy covers to accept the bowl. Once he had it in his hands, he stared at it for a long time.  
  
"It looks like blood," he said at last.  
  
"That's because some of the ingredients simply have a strong red pigment. I promise there's no blood in it."  
  
He was still staring at it, with a strange look in his eyes. His eyes had dimmed slightly, and he seemed to be looking at something else, something very far away...  
  
Aerin suddenly snatched the bowl from him. He snapped back as soon as the potion was taken out of his sight and blinked at Aerin in confusion.  
  
"If it looks so awful, close your eyes and I'll feed it to you," Aerin told him, more calmly than she felt.   
  
Seth obediently shut his eyes and opened his mouth. Aerin held the bowl to his lips and tipped it up slightly. She did not remove the bowl until Seth had drained it. Aerin didn't voice it, there was no need with the slight threat gone and the fear ebbing in her chest, but she recognized the look in those eyes. That was exactly - *exactly* - how he had looked after they left Junon. Simple words had set him off, then; she didn't want to see what forbidden memories a bowl of blood-colored potion would stir up.  
  
But Seth seemed to be back to himself now, and Sephiroth was apparently back where he belonged - seventeen years gone, firmly rooted in the past.  
  
"It won't take effect for a while," Aerin said, crossing the room to put the bowl back in her bag. That done, she returned to Seth's side, sitting in the chair by the bed. She sighed. "I didn't need the cape."  
  
Seth burrowed back under the covers. "If I hadn't given it to you, you'd be the one lying in bed sick."  
  
Aerin tried to find an argument to that, she really did.  
  
"But-- I-- Seth--"  
  
Seth yawned and peered out at her from under the covers. "I don't want you to be hurt."  
  
"What, so my health is more important than yours?"  
  
"It's my fault you got dragged into this."  
  
Aerin stared at him, mouth agape. "W...what? What are you talking about? It's not your FAULT, I just -- I felt like I needed to be with you -- felt like terrible things would happen if--"  
  
"If I wasn't here, you wouldn't have had to follow me."  
  
"But...!"  
  
Seth's eyes were closed. His breath was lengthening. Aerin sighed helplessly as she realized he had fallen asleep.   
  
"Seth," she whispered, "why do you hate yourself so much?"  
  
-  
  
"I hate winter."  
  
This complaint was put forth to nobody in particular, anybody who would listen.  
  
"Miss the sea?" The bartender asked sympathetically, cleaning out a glass.   
  
"Hell yes. It'll be ages... I don't think I can make it."  
  
"You said that last year," the bartender said mildly, pouring out a small glass of vodka. "Somehow, you managed to survive."  
  
"Ah, you know I'm just griping," the woman said, accepting the glass and depositing the appropriate amount of gil on the counter. She leaned on the counter and took a sip from the glass. "But they're early this year," she continued. "Usually they at least wait until December, but nobody can deny that the storm season's on. Something's not right, it's only September..."  
  
At first glance, it could be difficult to tell that this was a female. She wore loose, masculine clothing. Her bared arms showed firm, toned muscles. She slouched at the bar. Often, it wasn't until one looked closer, noticed the slenderness of her build, the feminine contours of her form, that one realized she *was* a woman. She was a sailor; not only that, but she was the captain of her own ship, the Tycoon. It was rumored she'd spent all her life on the sea; her ship was everything to her.  
  
It was understandably frustrating for her to have to stop sailing for the winter storms.  
  
She set down the vodka and blew a lock of violet hair out of her face. 'Every year, every Planet-forsaken year, and it still annoys the living daylights out of me.'  
  
She heard the footsteps, heard them before the bartender started gaping at something just behind her, and before she could even turn around to look, she heard that voice, that flat tenor that could belong to only one man...  
  
"Faris Scherwiz," the voice said, with an air of slight amusement. Faris grinned and turned around to face the man, leaning back onto the bar.  
  
"Vincent Valentine," she returned. "I see you're still stalking me."  
  
He ignored the remark, taking the captain's hand in his and bending to kiss it. She rolled her eyes.  
  
"What was that for?"  
  
"It is customary for a gentleman to kiss a lady's hand," Vincent explained calmly.  
  
He saw the glitter of mischief in Faris's eyes, just before she brought his hand to her lips. "A pleasure to see you again, Miss Valentine."  
  
'He is so going to blow my head off with his gun, but I don't care, it was *worth* it,' Faris thought gleefully as Vincent's eyes widened and he made a series of strange noises, seeming to cycle through shock to fury to embarrassment and back again. Dear gods, but it was so much *fun* to catch the unflappable ex-Turk off guard...  
  
"So what brings you down to Sydois? Anything in particular? You can't be planning to travel by sea, not with the winter storms coming. Here, sit." She patted the stool next to her.   
  
Vincent quietly picked up what was left of his dignity and sat calmly on the chair. "I had hoped that there would be a ship bound for Mideel. I have urgent business there."  
  
"In Mideel?" Faris snorted. "Mideel's a great little place, absolutely lovely, but what the hell kind of 'urgent business' do you have in a pretty little resort town? You don't 'urgently' need to relax. Well, maybe *you* do, but..."  
  
"Jenova is alive," Vincent said shortly. "She was last seen flying towards Mideel."  
  
Faris's entire demeanour completely changed in the span of an instant. The slouch was abandoned, the smirk, the playful tone in her voice both vanished. She sat completely straight, her eyes wide, her face serious.  
  
"You're kidding. Jenova?" At Vincent's nod, she swore and dragged a hand through her hair. "Well, shit."  
  
"That is putting it very mildly," Vincent said. "We have already encountered her. I do not wish to think about what might have happened..."  
  
"We?"  
  
"Myself and two children," Vincent said. "Around sixteen years of age. A boy named Seth from Nibelheim, and a girl named Aerin from Cosmo Canyon. Seth ran into Jenova alone, and she flew away as soon as Aerin and I approached."  
  
"Why are you traveling with...? No, never mind, forget it. Tell me later." Faris took in a deep breath and then let it out in a rush, shaking her long bangs out of her eyes. "Pretty little tangle you've got yourself in here, Valentine. Jenova heading to Mideel in the middle of the winter storms..."   
  
Abruptly she stopped and frowned, turning to face Vincent.   
  
"Wait... if the storms have come, why the hell is she out flying? She stands a good chance of either getting blown way off course or getting struck by lightning..."  
  
"You forget Jenova is not bound by the same restrictions as our kind," Vincent said evenly. "She will find Mideel if I am at all familiar with her abilities... and lightning will hardly deter her. We destroyed her utterly... whatever was left of her must have been scattered across the entire Planet... and yet she has somehow brought herself back. I do not think lightning is a major concern of hers."  
  
"Damn it all, you're probably right. Okay. So what exactly are you planning to do? Do you even have a clue what she's after?"  
  
Vincent shook his head. "Seth said that Jenova wants her son back... but why would she go to Mideel...?" He was speaking mostly to himself now. "Surely she knows..."  
  
"Knows what?" Faris looked confused. "That Sephiroth's dead? I should bleeding well hope she knows that."  
  
Vincent barely heard her, muttering so quietly that Faris could only hear snatches of words. "...unless... if it was never Sephiroth's own goal... yes... that would be... the Lifestream..."   
  
"What in Leviathan's name are you babbling about?!" Faris curled one hand into a fist in frustration.  
  
Vincent rose abruptly to his feet. "Mideel. The open Lifestream... immense amounts of spiritual energy... and if her goal is what I think it is..."  
  
He turned to the captain with a strange energy in his movement, a tension just at the edge of each motion. "Faris. Would you be willing to sail the Tycoon to Mideel?"  
  
She stared at him. "Except for that tiny little detail that the Tycoon would probably be in about thirteen pieces in the middle of the ocean by the time the storms got done with us, yes."  
  
"Would you rather," Vincent growled, "lose the Planet to Meteor? No stream of Holy will come forth to protect us now, and it would be unwise to count on the Lifestream again..."  
  
"Wait, go back a few steps." Faris held her hands up. "When did Meteor come into this?"  
  
"We do not know where the Black Materia is. Jenova might. I am sure that Sephiroth did not act entirely of his own will, and if that is true, then Jenova is very likely to do the exact same thing that he did, the very moment she can."  
  
"Okay, so in normal human language, that means she's gonna call down another flaming hunk of rock if she can. Am I right?" At Vincent's nod, Faris' face set itself into a tight mask.  
  
"So you need the Tycoon to get to her."  
  
"I know you. You are the only one who would even consider crossing the ocean in winter."  
  
Faris' tight-lipped expression softened, tilted up at the edges into a smirk. "When do you want to depart?"  
  
"As soon as you can get the Tycoon ready."  
  
The smirk widened and Faris brought one hand up in salute. "Be at the docks in half an hour."  
-  
  
Drops of blood, rolling one by one off the moonlight blade, each one falling like ruby tears... falling down into the leaves below him, landing and quivering among the sprays of green as fresh, ripe berries.  
  
'A rowan tree', Seth thought vaguely. 'This is a rowan tree.'   
  
Distractedly, he cast his eyes down to the landscape beneath him, shimmering like diamonds beneath the rowan's leaves. Far below, nestled in against the silver mountains, was Nibelheim. Seth blinked, not feeling any reaction to this. Certainly he ought to; pinned by Masamune to a giant rowan tree miles above his home town should have made him feel something.   
  
'Am I dead, then? Is that why I feel nothing?'  
  
He lifted his head slightly, focused on the length of shining metal that was his sword, had been driven through him and into the heart of the tree. Here he hung on the great mountain ash, apparently dead and yet aware.  
  
'Of course, I'm Sephiroth, seventeen years dead but alive.' Content with this reasoning, he looked back down, his eyes traveling down the length of his sword, watching with interest his slight bleeding from the wound. He watched as the red drops rolled down his moon-pale flesh, staining the green cape that had been wound about his waist and shoulders as some form of cover.   
  
As he watched, one drop rolled free of his emerald trappings and fell, far below, and it wasn't blood after all, it was a summon Materia... it fell into a pool of pale green -- 'more blood', Seth realized, never once questioning the illogic of blood being that color and shining with its own light -- and where it touched the green, a six-legged horse sprang forth, bearing on its back a grim-faced creature of legend.  
  
'Odin,' Seth realized numbly. Odin, the god of the mountains, the patron and father of Nibelheim... he was free of his Materia prison now. Seth smiled vaguely.  
  
"All-Father," he murmured aloud, stretching out his sword hand as if to touch the god. He was suddenly aware that this was the thing Odin himself was said to have done; offered himself in sacrifice to himself on the great ash tree Yggdrasil, in order to gain the wisdom he could not find alone. This thought made Seth feel guilty. He had desecrated this tree with his mortal blood. He was not a worthy sacrifice to Odin; the god must be angry. Seth bowed his head.  
  
"Forgive me."  
  
A gloved hand with gentle fingers tilted his chin up. Seth found himself staring into Vincent's ageless red eyes, red as blood as summon materia as ripe rowan berries.  
  
"I will forgive you."  
  
Even as these words were spoken, Vincent was drifting away, his hand still outstretched.  
  
"Your trial is not yet done, Seth Drasil. You have yet to endure the pain that will set you free."  
  
Seth only nodded, and lay back his head against the rowan's trunk.  
  
-  
  
"Hhhhhhuh!"  
  
Aerin looked up with a start from her copy of "Study of Planet Life" at Seth's gasp. The boy had sat partway up in bed, his eyes wide and staring, one hand brought up to his forehead as though to shield it from some invisible attack.  
  
"Seth?"  
  
Seth sighed and plopped back down onto the bed, murmuring more to himself than to her. "Just a dream..."  
  
"A dream? What was it about?" Aerin closed her book so she could devote her full attention to Seth.  
  
"I dunno... it was just weird." Seth shook his head slowly, the images already fading. "Something about a giant rowan tree... and Odin... I dunno. It was weird."  
  
Aerin looked slightly concerned. "Well, do you feel any better this morning?"  
  
Seth nodded. "Actually, yea... this *morning*?!" He sat up suddenly, looking around at his surroundings. This was not the cozy little inn room. This room was small, sparsely furnished... and seemed to be moving... he was lying in a bunk bed set into one wall... "Where are we?!"  
  
Aerin covered her mouth, politely stifling a giggle. "After I gave you the potion, you were totally dead to the world. Vincent came in a few minutes later to tell us he'd found a ship and we needed to get going. You wouldn't wake up for *anything*, we had to carry you out to the ship..."  
  
"And we've been traveling all night?" Seth blinked.   
  
"Mm-hmm."  
  
"Where's Vincent?" Seth wondered, getting up carefully from the bed.  
  
"He might be out talking to the captain. They seem to be friends." Aerin grinned.   
  
"Friends?" Seth knew how dumb it sounded, but the words 'Vincent' and 'friend' were wheeling around his brain and bumping into each other. He couldn't quite get them to connect.  
  
"Friends, F-R-I-E-N-D-S." Aerin poked his nose. "Don't give me that blank look, I know you understand the concept."  
  
"Yeah, *I* do, but Vincent?" Seth looked mystified as he grabbed his cape off a hook near the door. "You mark it off on the calendar if Vincent *smiles*, and you declare it an official holiday if he laughs. I can't see a guy like that knowing what a friend *is*."  
  
"Then maybe you should open your eyes once in a while." Aerin's steely tone halted Seth on his way out the door. He turned, confused, to face her.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You heard me." Aerin's face was stern. "There's more to him than a gun, a claw, and a famous name. You know, he stayed up all night keeping watch over you. I tried to tell him that deep sleep is a normal side effect of this potion, but he wouldn't hear of it."  
  
Seth stood there, the door forgotten, two pairs of green eyes locked across the room.  
  
"Vincent?" Seth said dumbly.  
  
"Yes, Vincent!" Aerin snapped, rising to her feet. "He took me in to bed last night and told me that he'd keep watch over you. All night, all night he stayed by your side just to be sure you were okay! He wouldn't abandon you; just like you didn't abandon me!"  
  
Seth might have responded. Aerin might have continued her tirade. It's impossible to say, because whatever might have happened was interrupted by footsteps stopping at the door and a woman's weight on the doorframe.  
  
"I see you're up."  
  
Seth turned around to face the newcomer and saw a tanned woman in loose, pale blue clothing leaning on the doorframe, grinning at him.  
  
"It was quite a sight, you know, your pals carrying you down the street and onto the ship. You looked like you were in a coma or something."  
  
"Uh," Seth said intelligently. The woman laughed and offered her hand.  
  
"I'm Captain Faris Scherwiz; just Faris is fine. Nice to finally meet you, Seth."  
  
"You're the captain?"  
  
"Weren't expecting a woman?" Faris quirked an eyebrow, but didn't withdraw her hand.  
  
Feeling as though if he got one more surprise today his brain was going to go into automatic shutdown, Seth decided to keep his mouth shut and just took her hand. She gave it a few firm shakes. Her hand was strong and slightly callused from work, but there was gentleness in it.  
  
"Nice to meet you, Faris," Seth said with a bit of a smile as he withdrew his hand.  
  
Faris grinned and gestured over her shoulder. "Vincent said that he wanted to talk to you, if you were up. He's on deck."  
  
Seth nodded his head. "Thanks."  
  
As Faris moved aside to let him out, Aerin sighed and shook her head.  
  
"I don't know what we're going to do with him."  
  
"Don't be too hard on him," Faris said, her smile fading. "I saw the Masamune. That's a lot for him to carry."  
  
Aerin didn't think Faris was talking about the sword.  
  
-  
  
/Quite a morning, what?/  
  
"Eh."  
  
/Very interesting dream you had, I must say./  
  
"Nn."  
  
/Can't quite understand why *I* had you pinned, though, but anyway. I especially liked the summon materia coming from the blood, that was clever./  
  
"Mm."  
  
/Interesting how Vincent took the place of Odin at the end. Why d'you reckon that was?/  
  
Seth stopped short. He had been listening to his sword with only half an ear, but that statement caught his notice.  
  
Why indeed? Odin was the god of the silver mountains, the spirit he had prayed to when he was a little boy (and had been neglecting in recent years, Seth realized with a pang of guilt), the protector of his home. Why had Vincent taken the place of the All-Father in his dream?  
  
["All night, all night he stayed by your side just to be sure you were okay!"]  
  
Seth leaned against the wall, massaging his right temple as a whirlwind of thoughts assaulted him with all the force of a Nibel blizzard.  
  
["There's more to him than a gun, a claw, and a famous name."]   
  
Seth groaned and slid down the wall to sit on the floor as this thought let loose a hail of strange, vivid memories. He was being held in a pair of slender arms, held close to a warm chest dressed in dark blue... looking up, he saw deep sad redwood eyes in a pale face framed by strands of ebony... and the most loving smile...  
  
'Father.'  
  
Not his father, not Rowan... then... who?  
  
Someone who loved him. Someone who wouldn't let him go...  
  
...he was crying out, reaching out for the man in blue, sobbing and howling, screaming a name... his hands were so small and helpless, he couldn't help the man, he couldn't help himself... and he howled his despair...  
  
"Gods," Seth whispered, staring at his teenage hands. "Dear Odin, who am I?"  
  
["Maybe you should open your eyes once in a while."]  
  
-  
  
It was a very shaken Seth, severely rattled by his latest bout of memories, that finally made his way to the deck. The sunlight, beating down on him without yesterday's comfortable blanket of grey clouds, nearly blinded him. Once he had brought up an arm to shield himself from the oppressive light, he could see Vincent standing at the very front of the ship, staring out over the shining waves. Seth took a deep breath and crossed the wooden deck to reach his inscrutable guardian.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Vincent did not turn. "I had wondered when you would awaken."  
  
This was more like the Vincent that Seth knew, not the stranger that Aerin claimed had spent the night at his bedside.  
  
"Faris said you wanted to talk to me."  
  
"Yes." Vincent turned around to face the boy. "This has been weighing on my mind recently."  
  
"So, out with it." Seth stood next to Vincent, leaning casually against the railing. "What've you got to say?"  
  
"What happened when you were alone with Jenova?"  
  
Seth was somewhat taken aback by the question. "What happened?"  
  
"Yes. What did she say to you?"  
  
"She said... she said I was Sephiroth. After I said I wasn't. Umm... she said something about me having new blood and a new name. Yeah... she said that even though I had that, I'd always be her son. Freaked the hell out of me, to be honest. That's when you showed up."  
  
"Before that." Vincent looked down at Seth, and their eyes met. "What did she say? What did she do?"  
  
"Um... she didn't say anything, really. I'd... uh..." Seth blushed and looked down. He didn't want to talk about this to Vincent.  
  
"Seth, I need to know this. Tell me what happened," Vincent said in a surprisingly gentle voice. "Tell me everything you can remember."  
  
The Nibel boy didn't lift his head to meet those garnet eyes. "I'd been dreaming... about being back home, in Nibelheim. Mom was holding me... and then Masamune and I both felt like there was danger nearby, and I woke up. I didn't see anything at first, but the clouds... um... the clouds reminded me of Meteor."  
  
Taking in a deep breath to steady himself, Seth continued. "And then... then I... I remembered. I was Sephiroth again... I... I was laughing. I could see Meteor, I could *see* the damn thing like it was really there, and the Materia... oh gods... it was still hot from the summoning, I could feel it in my hand... and..."  
  
The pitiful, broken stream of words rattled to a halt. Seth hid his face in shaking hands, starting to hyperventilate. Reliving the memory once had been bad enough as it was; having to concentrate on it and put it into words was worse. He could barely breathe; his heart was pounding with uncomfortable force; his body was trembling almost violently.   
  
A thin-fingered hand closed reassuringly on his right shoulder. Vincent had tentatively wrapped an arm around Seth's shoulders in an attempt to lend him some tiny strength.  
  
"It was a memory," he said softly. "Sephiroth is dead, Meteor is gone. Shades of the past. Forget them. I need to know what you lived, not what you remembered."  
  
Despite Vincent's strangely reassuring closeness and the steadying sound of his voice, it took Seth another five minutes to regain enough composure to speak.  
  
"When I stopped remembering that," he whispered, "I saw Jenova there. I... for a moment, I thought of her as 'mother'.  
  
As though afraid that this would earn him hatred to rival the emotion in his own heart, Seth bowed his head quickly. But Vincent only gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.   
  
"Go on."  
  
Braced, Seth took in another gulp of air. "She was caling to me... and I was going to her... after a bit, she stopped looking like Jenova... more like my mom. And I thought I was back in Nibelheim, going to my real mom... and then she called me Sephiroth, and... that's when I snapped out of it. I... I told her she wasn't my mom, I wasn't Sephiroth... and that's when she said I always would be, and then you showed up, and..." Seth sagged in relief. "That was it."  
  
"Thank you," Vincent murmured, and Seth leaned against him, exhausted from his retelling. Vincent stared up into the sky. "You have never been exposed to Jenova cells, have you?"  
  
"Hmm?" Seth blinked up at Vincent. "No, I don't think so..."  
  
"No, you wouldn't have been... I've seen you in battle, your physical abilities are not of the caliber a survivor of Jenova would have developed. You are completely human, a thing Sephiroth could not claim."  
  
"Sephiroth wasn't human?"  
  
"Not entirely. He was born to humans, yes, but he was injected with Jenova cells before birth. From the moment he opened his eyes to the world, he was a half-breed. Jenova was not his mother in the conventional sense, but she might as well have been."  
  
Seth blinked as Vincent moved away to pace the deck, seemingly deep in thought. "What are you getting at here, Vincent?"  
  
"What I don't understand," Vincent said, apparently deaf to Seth's query, "is how Jenova could have influenced you as she did. With none of her cells in your body, she should not have been able to touch you..."  
  
"Maybe she's strong enough not to need that now?"  
  
Seth regretted his suggestion the minute it came out of his mouth. Knowing what he did about Jenova, that was not a thing he wanted to ponder. Apparently it bothered Vincent too, because the gunman stopped dead in his tracks.   
  
"Um... sorry," Seth muttered.  
  
"Don't be. Nobody understands Jenova well enough to be able to explain how she works. It may be your remembering Sephiroth that has allowed her to get to you. It may be something else. It may be anything that we cannot understand or infer. Any suggestion is valid."  
  
Seth didn't say anything to that, and Vincent didn't continue. A few moments of silence passed.  
  
"Seth," Vincent said suddenly, "I need to ask a favor of you."  
  
"Huh? You, ask me a favor?" Seth blinked. "What could I do for you?"  
  
"Kill me."  
  
"Fwuh?!"  
  
"I myself harbor Jenova's cells in my body. Surely you have heard of my transformations?" Vincent's voice took on a sardonic tone at the last sentence. "It is Jenova's influence that makes my body mutable, that allows my other aspects to take form."  
  
Seth was still staring at Vincent, looking as though he'd just had a couple circuits in his brain blown out.  
  
"Never has Jenova ever managed to control me; for some reason, I have always been beyond her reach. But if, as you suggested, she has grown stronger, she may be able to reach out to me."  
  
Vincent began pacing again. Seth was watching him, listening intently. Abruptly Vincent stopped and clenched his good hand into a fist. Seth had a momentary flash of that same hand from his dream before Vincent spoke again.  
  
"Jenova... is responsible for so much pain. It was Jenova that led Lucrecia to ruin... it was Jenova's influence that drove Sephiroth to madness. It is Jenova who even now appears to have the same goal as she and Sephiroth did seventeen years ago. We are the only ones who know and who stand in her way. If it were within her capabilities, it would be so *easy* for her to subvert me and thus direct us all away from her, allowing her to achieve her goal."   
  
Vincent's eyes narrowed and he turned to Seth, his eyes blazing with more emotion than Seth had ever seen the man show.  
  
"Jenova is my enemy. I cannot even hate Hojo for what he has done, because he did so under Jenova's influence. I will fight Jenova until one of us falls. I will never bow to her; she *will* pay for her sins." Vincent placed his good hand over his chest. "Remember my words, Seth, for these are the words of the true Vincent Valentine. My aim is to destroy Jenova, and to stop her before she can imperil the Planet again. These are my own words, Seth. Should I ever deviate from this goal, should I ever steer us away, should I ever, ever show signs of ceasing to be Vincent Valentine and becoming a pawn of Jenova, I want you to strike me down."  
  
Seth, bewildered, could only sputter out "How will I know?"  
  
"You will know. Know me as I am now; a man burdened by unforgivable sins, and driven by hatred. A man with blood on his hands that can never come clean. I was a Turk and committed unspeakable acts in the name of Shinra. I was unable to defend that which reawakened the barest stirrings of a soul in my heart. I am a false shell of a true man who died, years and years ago. I am less than human. Sometimes I feel as though the only evil I have *not* submitted to is that of Jenova. Know Vincent Valentine, Seth, so that you will see if I ever commit that final sin."  
  
Vincent did not stay a moment longer. His scarlet cloak flared out behind him as he strode away from Seth and went back below deck. Left alone, the youth slid down onto the weather-beaten wood beneath him, staring into space.   
  
It was not until later, when Faris emerged to check the weather to be sure they weren't sailing into a storm, that Seth finally moved. Overwhelmed, he rose to his feet slowly and went below deck. He did not speak a single word for the rest of the day.  
-  
end chapter 5 


	6. Chapter 6 Winter Wildflowers

A/N: Tip o' the hat to Princess Artemis for the whole Cid thing here. She's the one who got me thinking like that with her great fanfic "Venus Gospel".  
  
Just in case anybody's been confused for the last five chapters:  
  
[...] = flashback or memory.  
/.../ = Masamune talking to Seth.  
'...' = thoughts.  
  
It seems self-explanatory to me but I want to be sure. ^_^;;;  
  
Also - don't ask why it's winter in September. I'm going to explain that. Eventually. I think. ^_^;;;  
  
-  
Chapter 6 - Winter Wildflowers  
-  
"Wark!"  
  
Seth smiled softly and reached up to scratch Zion's head. The big chocobo chirped happily, rubbing against Seth's fingers and nipping them affectionately when he pulled away.  
  
The Tycoon was a light cargo ship, designed for swift overseas delivery of anything from small food shipments to time-sensitive government papers to... basically anything that could fit that you wanted delivered fast. This included chocobos, naturally - thought the designer of the Tycoon's below-deck stables had apparently thought you'd never have to transport more than four chocobos at a time.  
  
The stalls were small, but functional, and the chocobos seemed reasonably comfortable. Aerin's Gypsum had looked vaguely seasick, Vincent's Mari seemed as unflappable as her rider, and Seth's own Zion had just looked bored until Seth had walked in the door with a handful of greens.  
  
"Missed me, huh?" Seth said with a bit of a smile as Zion butted his head affectionately against Seth's hand.   
  
The chocobos had recently been fed and watered by a crew member, so Seth wasn't too afraid of being interrupted. Masamune had been left in his room with strict orders to shut up and stay that way for a while. Taking a deep breath, he began to speak.  
  
"I think I'm going crazy."  
  
There. That much was off his chest. Zion was peering down at him, his big gray eyes confused. Seth managed a slight smile.  
  
"Well, I must be crazy if I'm talking to a chocobo..."  
  
"Warrrk."  
  
Seth swore that Zion looked indignant and grinned, ruffling the bird's crest and leaning against the stall door.  
  
"Sorry. I really need someone to talk to, though... and I can't talk about this to anyone who can talk back." Seth sighed. "I had another memory yesterday."  
  
"Wark?"  
  
"I keep remembering things... little bits and pieces of Sephiroth's life. Mostly the significant things... I remember summoning Meteor, the fight in the reactor, and yesterday..."  
  
He closed his eyes, pulling up the strange images from his memory. It was so much different from Sephiroth's other memories... up to now, he had only remembered things Sephiroth had done in his insanity. But this... "I... he was just a little kid. I was being held by a man in a blue suit... he felt like a father, the way he held me and smiled at me. I felt like... he was the only one who loved me, when I was Sephiroth..."  
  
Zion let out a plaintive warble and nuzzled Seth. Mari was gazing at them stoically with her dark redwood eyes. Seth paid her no heed.  
  
"And then I was being taken away from him... I think I was screaming his name, but I can't remember what his name was. I was trying to get to him and he was trying to get to me, but...  
  
"Zion, this is driving me nuts. I don't know who I am anymore. Seth, or Sephiroth... I have no idea which one is really me. Maybe both. Maybe neither. I just don't know anymore."  
  
Seth hung his head, absently scritching Zion with one hand.  
  
"It wasn't so long ago that Sephiroth was just a name in the history books to me, and I'd never heard of Masamune. It really wasn't that long ago that I was just some kid from Nibelheim on a family trip to Midgar. If I close my eyes and think really hard, I can almost imagine that I'm back home, lying in my own bed, and that I never knew about this stupid legacy I've inherited by being who I am, and that Nibelheim never burned, that I never did it..."  
  
"Warkk."  
  
"I didn't mean to...!" Seth's eyes squeezed shut and tears trickled down his face. "I loved Nibelheim! I never wanted anyone there to get hurt! But now I don't have a mother, I don't have a home, and I've only got a few tiny shreds of an *identity* -- and it's all my own fault!  
  
"I don't know what I'm going to do after we kill Jenova. Maybe I'll die in the battle and all my problems will be solved... but then what about Aunt Lena.... arrgh..."  
  
Seth stood up suddenly. "I'm sorry," he said to nobody in particular. "I thought this would help, but I don't really feel any better... I need fresh air."  
  
As he advanced heavily towards the door, he heard something just outside.  
  
Running.  
  
It took him less than two seconds to get to the door and fling it open, revealing a glimpse of dark brown hair and desert-colored skirt flaring down the hallway.  
  
He didn't cry out. He didn't yell. He didn't give chase. He simply sank down to his knees and began to feel a perverse calm come over him.  
  
His secret was out. Aerin, who had kept faith in him and refused to believe that he was Sephiroth all over again, knew. She knew that he had followed in his own footsteps and burned his hometown to the ground.   
  
'Well then, it's all over with. She'll tell Vincent and Faris and the entire ship will swoop down on me and put me out of my misery.'  
  
A morbid smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. He obligingly allowed it to spread, until a strange sort of giggle escaped.  
  
'I wonder if I sound like Sephiroth,' he thought vaguely as he fell into peals of near-insane laughter.  
  
-  
  
Aerin skidded to a halt, her brain finally catching up with her feet.  
  
She had just found out the foul secret that Seth had left to fester inside himself for so long. She finally knew why he hated himself so much. And she was running away from a chance to find out more.  
  
But surely Seth wouldn't welcome her enquiries. Surely she would only hurt him more by probing.   
  
Then again... if Seth was left to himself... his guilt would only increase...  
  
She stood there for a while, torn between two separate impulses, until she heard the laughter. That was not happy laughter. It was the unsettling laughter of someone who had simply been driven past the point of endurance and could no longer react in any other way.  
  
It was not a physical wound, but Aerin was drawn to it as surely as to any injury. Her healer's hands burned to soothe the undeniable suffering she heard in that morbid laughter, no matter how deep it ran. She turned and walked back down the hallway to meet the Nibel boy.  
  
He was still laughing when she knelt by his side.  
  
"Hey."  
  
The laughter stopped. Seth looked slowly up at her with a frightening smile.  
  
"Seth?" Aerin asked cautiously.  
  
"So now you know." Seth was still smiling. Aerin did not like that smile.   
  
"Yeah... now I know." She was treading on thin ice and she knew it. Talking to Seth would require caution; he was definitely losing hold of his sanity. "How did it happen?"  
  
"You care?" Seth's smile only seemed to widen. "You actually care about what a mass murderer has to say?"  
  
"You didn't do it on purpose." It wasn't a question, and Seth's psychotic grin faded as Aerin locked eyes with him. "I heard you say you didn't mean to do it. So it must have been an accident. How did it happen?"  
  
The fierce purity of Aerin's stare surprised Seth. She did not condemn, she did not hate, she did not shrink away in fear or disgust. He looked at himself and saw a monster. Aerin looked at him and saw... what?  
  
"Why do you care...?" he whispered, staring into her eyes.  
  
"Because," Aerin said.  
  
"Because...?"  
  
"Because you are Seth." Aerin's gaze did not waver. "Because you're hurt, and I'm a healer. Because you were kind to me. And because I want to know the truth."  
  
With a kind of furious pride, she saw the shade of rising madness seem to retreat from Seth's eyes. Those same eyes darkened with shame, and were turned away from her own.  
  
"It was an accident," he whispered.   
  
"I understand that," she said softly to him. "Tell me what happened."  
  
Seth took in a shaky, rattling breath. "I... Aerin... don't know if I can..." He squeezed his eyes shut. "Aerin... don't make me do this!... I can't do it. I can't... don't want to remember... don't want to see..."  
  
Aerin wrapped her arms comfortingly around him. "I won't make you hurt any more than you have to. But I know your secret now, and I forgive you... the Planet knows you've punished yourself enough for it. I know and I don't hate you, Seth. You don't have to be afraid."  
  
He trembled against her, suddenly clinging, fighting with tears. She stroked his hair soothingly, not letting go. No more words were spoken between the two teenagers; touch was the language of the moment, and all that needed to be said was spoken by the brush of dusky fingers through moon-pale silk and the press of a fair cheek against a loosely clothed shoulder.  
  
In a few moments, Faris would come down this hallway. She would see Aerin and Seth there on the floor, desert flame and mountain ice held in a pact of friendship and solace. She would smile and back out on silent feet, unnoticed, leaving the children to their moment. There are things which mustn't be interrupted and Faris would know this was one of them.  
  
She would know nothing of the crisis that Aerin had thwarted, nothing of their shared secret. She would simply walk away unheard, smiling to herself about the beauty of young love.  
-  
  
Small and round and infinitely green. No bigger than a marble as he rolled it in his fingers, staring into the impossible depths.   
  
Very few Materia were left in the world, now. After the defeat of Sephiroth and the destruction of Meteor, Cloud had insisted that they return their Materia to the planet. It had taken almost a full year to finish the job; most people didn't want to part with the gems.   
  
There were a few, of course, that had not been returned. The Huge Materia remained in Cosmo Canyon for the elders to study. The Materia inside the Masamune, as well; Vincent had ventured alone into the Crater to retrieve the sword and store it safely inside Lucrecia's cave, and had been unable to bring himself to look at the sword further, let alone take off the bindings to remove the Materia set in the hilt.  
  
Another four resided in the hands of a few of the heroes. These four had been gifts from the Planet, given through the Huge Materia. They were conduits of such amazing power that those who kept them had sworn to use them with caution.   
  
Cloud and Nanaki took charge of the Master Summon Materia, through which the holder could reach through the ether to call forth all the gods and monsters to aid them. Unlike other summoning Materia, this was not a prison for souls but a method of communication. There had been some debate and good-natured joking at Cloud's expense about giving such power to a person who couldn't even keep his head on straight, but in the end the jewel was left in his and Nanaki's care.  
  
Yuffie had claimed the Master Command Materia, imbued with the knowledge of generations of martial artists. Through it, Yuffie became a vessel for techniques she alone could never have mastered, of powers that ran deeper than mere magic, that drew strength not from the Planet or the Cetra, but from a human soul.  
  
Cid had claimed Bahamut Zero for himself. Centuries ago, when the Cetra had been numerous and Jenova had yet to touch the Planet's flesh, there had been an elite order of holy warriors. These proud soldiers, entirely devoted to king and country, had called themselves Dragon Knights and over time came to be known simply as 'Dragoons'. Cid never chose to attire himself in the dragon-shaped armor of his ancestors, but none could deny that he was the rightful heir of that heritage. Nobody objected when Cid chose the King of Dragons as his patron and protector.  
  
That had left only one, Master Magic. All the magic of the Cetra was available to the holder of this Materia. It was not a thing to be trifled with; the magic of the Cetra was more than the simple spells that everyone was familiar with. They had possessed power that could bind the soul and bend, to a small extent, the fabric of reality itself. It had been Cetra magic that sealed the Black Materia into the form of a temple, Cetra power that had sculpted the waterfall cave.   
  
Vincent, who had opted to take possession of Master Magic, tried to use the gem sparingly. The power he held now in this tiny orb was dizzying. Everything from the tiniest ice spell to the power that had formed a temple from alien souls was within his grasp. Vincent had chosen this Materia not to empower himself, but to protect the insane power from others. Cetra magic could not ease the ache inside him, could not give him the things he longed for. But if the gem should fall into the hands of a weaker mind, more easily dazzled by this power...  
  
Vincent shook his head and set the Materia back into his gun, holstering the rifle and looking out over the sea. He could see Mideel now, a strip of living, teeming emerald sliding over the horizon. A sudden flow of emotion made him shudder; Mideel as he remembered it was tied to the near loss of a friend and leader, and a near defeat at the hands of one of the Planet's warriors.  
  
'It thought we were a threat, when we were trying to help.'  
  
"We'll be there within the hour if this wind keeps up."  
  
Vincent turned his head slightly to face Faris as she walked up beside him.   
  
"Hello, Faris."  
  
"Bloody glorious day, isn't it?" She beamed at him. "I wouldn't mind sailing all day like this. I must remember to thank you profusely for showing up and needing a ride."  
  
Vincent smiled slightly. "And I must remember to thank you for being so insane as to take us."  
  
"It's a pleasure." Faris grinned for a moment, then turned serious. "So, then. What will you be doing when you reach Mideel?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Jenova," the ship's captain said. "What do you plan to do about her?"  
  
Vincent took in a deep breath and let it out. "I plan to fight her."  
  
"Seth and Aerin might not be up to it."  
  
"I do not plan to involve them in it. They are only children. I would not ask that they risk themselves in this battle. Neither of them even needs to be here; and if not for me, they wouldn't be."  
  
Faris gave him a quizzical look. Vincent looked down and shook his head softly.  
  
"I have lied to Seth. He is on this journey under false pretext. He does not need to be here."  
  
Faris arched one violet eyebrow. "You, lie? I find it hard to believe that you've ever spoken an untrue word in your life."  
  
"No. But I have withheld the truth, which is the same. I lied in my days as a Turk; I lied to Cloud and the others; and I now have lied to Seth, by simply holding back the truth. I could set his suffering to rest with a few words, and yet I have not." He shook his head again. "I am a beast of a man..."  
  
"What haven't you told him and why?"  
  
"I was testing him." Vincent closed his eyes. "Testing the quality of his character. To see what he felt. I wanted to see how like his old self he was. I wish now that I had not; he is nothing like Sephiroth."  
  
"I could have told you that," Faris said with a smirk. "He's a sweet kid. But you didn't answer my first question. What is it you're keeping from him?"  
  
Vincent did not speak.  
  
"Vincent?"  
  
Still nothing.  
  
"What, are you afraid I'll go tell him before you're ready to spill?"  
  
"If you knew what it was, no promise could bind you to your silence," Vincent murmured. "I know you too well, Faris. Your nature would not allow you to keep this secret. I therefore ask that you do not press any further. I will tell him. Just not now."  
  
Faris was silent for a minute or two, finally making a frustrated noise deep in her throat.  
  
"Stupid gothy-ass vampire, you're impossible..."  
  
"I'm not a vampire."   
  
"Then stop dressing like one!" Faris punched him lightly in the arm and stalked away. Vincent took very little notice of her departure, gazing out at Mideel. Soon they would face Jenova again. Vincent didn't look forward to it.  
  
'Seth will know the truth... if he survives.'  
  
-  
  
Mideel was beautiful.  
  
The island was large enough to comfortably sustain a small population, yet still small. The forests surrounding the town were thick and lush and incredibly alive. Everywhere you looked there was green, so wild and vibrant that Seth doubted whether even a full-scale Mako reactor would have been enough to harm the land.   
  
In the forest, the air smelled of rain and dew. Every so often, however, a sea-born wind would kick up and into the trees, bringing with it the scent of living brine and the distant sound of gulls over the waves. It was the most beautiful collage of life Seth had ever seen, the eternal courtship of mother earth and father sea. His eyes reflected every beryllic leaf and blade of grass as he tried to take in all his surroundings at once.   
  
He and Aerin were silent, hushed in their reverence, and the only sound was that of footsteps shuffling across the beaten dirt path leading from the town to the docks.  
  
"Shouldn't the leaves be turning colors about now?" Seth whispered - for it seemed that to speak any louder would have been to desecrate the forest's very life. "It's September."  
  
"The seasons are different down here," Vincent murmured in response, his voice a low thrum. "The climate is such that it is green almost all year. Spring and fall are brief, and there is almost never snow."  
  
Seth frowned slightly. He was on the very edge of speaking, but held himself back. Snow had been a deeply integral part of life for as long as he could remember, growing up in the icy mountains of Nibelheim. He understood that different climates had different weather, but snow to him would always be just as important as the green.  
  
'Then again,' he thought, 'Cosmo wouldn't have snow.'  
  
Another, more forlorn notion struck him. 'I hope there's snow in Midgar.'  
  
'Am I even going to get to Midgar?' His thoughts took a deeper turn. 'We're about to fight Jenova, if she's even here. She almost had me last time...'  
  
/As I recall, Seth, it was her calling you Sephiroth that snapped you out of it./  
  
'Hello,' Seth thought with some annoyance at the sword. 'I've been just fine, thanks, and you?'  
  
/Given that I am hanging off your hip right now, I didn't think it necessary to bother with the pleasantries of greeting./  
  
'Obviously.'  
  
Masamune changed the subject, deftly getting back to the point. /Are you worried about fighting Jenova?/  
  
'Well, yeah. Vincent told me to kill him if Jenova took him over - and if Jenova's strong enough to do that -'  
  
/I doubt she is./  
  
'And you know this how?'  
  
/I don't. Call it instinct./  
  
'What the hell kind of instinct would tell you that? You're a sword, do you even HAVE instincts?'  
  
/I talk, don't I? I'm intelligent, aren't I?/  
  
'Debatable.'  
  
/Shut up. You know what I meant. I'm quite unlike other swords; how do you know I don't have certain instincts?/  
  
'Wow, so this is Mideel. Nice little place.'  
  
/Seeeth, you're changing the subject./  
  
'Okay, okay, you have instincts, fine, yes, I see your side of the argument and all that.'  
  
/Splendid. Can we get back to the original topic, which was Jenova?/  
  
'Must we?'  
  
/Yes./ Masamune's already harsh voice was sterner than usual. /Do you plan to hide in a corner shivering until Jenova attacks you? Or will you face up to your - quite reasonable - fear and prepare for the confrontation? That's what makes the difference between courage and cowardice. You're not a little boy anymore, Seth./  
  
'I know that. But Masamune, can you cut me a little slack here?! I'm about to fight a powerful alien who was able to manipulate me in my past life and very nearly got me in THIS life and that even has VINCENT worried and I don't have a home and I don't have a family and I was living a nice quiet life right up until all this happened - I'm scared, okay?! I wish so much that I could turn back time and go back to my quiet life and make all this never have happened--'  
  
/Would you?/  
  
The simple question brought Seth up short as the small party filed into the inn.  
  
'What?'  
  
"Seth? Are you okay?"  
  
Seth blinked as Aerin waved one dark-skinned hand in front of his eyes. He grinned sheepishly.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just spaced out a bit."  
  
Aerin's expression of concern lightened, stretched into a grin.  
  
"Not going to go insane again, are you?" she joked, taking his hand.  
  
Seth laughed and shook his head. "Nahh. I think I've got my head on straight this time."  
  
The desert girl smiled brightly, a small giggle escaping her. She tightened her grip on his hand and gave it a small tug, moving for the inn door.  
  
"I'm holding you to that, you understand. No going crazy or I'll have to hurt you." She winked, moving slightly into a patch of sun as she did. The light caught in her dark hair, reflecting off the beads on the charm she wore bound up among the dark strands. Seth blinked, realizing that he'd managed to get lost somehow in her leaf-green eyes. Her hand suddenly felt very warm in his own.   
  
He looked down at it, suddenly entranced. In some places her skin was rough against his, evidence of long practice with a staff. That particular art, Seth began to realize, had been no idle hobby for the healer, nor had it been a recent undertaking. He remembered, suddenly, Aerin's skillful use of the weapon in the fight against the Grangalans. It was fascinating, really, how one pair of small dark hands could be so skillful at the arts of war and healing alike...  
  
Seth was jolted out of his quiet reverie when Aerin, rather abruptly, withdrew her hand. Blinking, Seth looked up at her, his cheeks suddenly burning. A similar flush seemed to be spreading across Aerin's dark skin. How long had they stood like that, like young lovers, not even knowing?  
  
A breeze rustled through the awkward silence. Seth's cape rustled about his ankles, the feathers on Aerin's charm fluttered. For a painful moment, neither of them seemed willing or able to speak. The fragile silence was a possibility, and it held within it a promise, an offering. An offering to make something beautiful, if only one of them would take the chance, putting forth their faith and their hand.  
  
Faith is harder to give than fear. Most people look at the future and say, what if it's worse? Some can look and say, what if it's better?  
  
And possibilities went untouched, the fragile greenglass silence between them broke as Vincent reappeared in the doorway, crimson eyes regarding them coolly. He might have stepped back and allowed the children their time, if Seth had not seen him, looked up and made eye contact, desperate to escape the silence and too afraid to take a chance.  
  
"Hi," Seth said with a sheepish grin as Aerin turned to follow his line of sight.  
  
Vincent's eyes were, as usual, unreadable. "Do you wish to stand in the front door all day? I can speak with the owner and see if he can arrange an alternate doorway for his patrons, if such is the case."  
  
Seth winced slightly at the sarcasm. Choosing not to answer, he carefully ducked around Vincent and into the inn, Aerin trailing behind him like a flame-colored shadow. Vincent snorted lightly and walked on.   
  
-  
  
"Right, right, I'll *get* to you, stop *pecking*, ow, you'll *get* your share in a second, ow! Look, if you don't calm down, I can just back right out of here and you can say goodbye to the greens!"  
  
The grey-eyed chocobo finally calmed down enough for Faris to finish the feeding rounds. A lot of dark vindictive little thoughts were running around and crashing into each other in the woman's head, mostly concerning whoever had designed the Tycoon's chocobo stable to be so small and the vow to charge Vincent for his next ride, friend or not. She rapped Zion, the pecker, sharply on the beak after giving him his greens.  
  
"Wark!"  
  
"You've got less to complain about than I do," Faris grumbled.   
  
It wasn't that she minded staying on the ship after her crew had decided to follow Vincent and the kids into Mideel. She had no burning desire to visit the island, and if she ever did, well then, she bloody well could. She saw the place about eighteen times a year on business and she'd found it one of the better places to wait out the seasonal storms, so it wasn't even a novelty. Besides, Faris was addicted to her profession and fanatically devoted to her ship, so being left alone on the Tycoon with so many little chores to be done actually put a little extra spring in the young captain's step.  
  
She just drew the line at feeding the damn chocobos.  
  
Once more cursing the ship's designer for making the distance between the stalls so negligible, Faris brushed a few spare leaves off her shirt and left the stable. There were, after all, a lot of things to be done.  
  
-  
  
He could smell her.  
  
Somewhere, mixed in with the life-rain smell of the forest, the faint salt tang on the wind, the musk of the town's inhabitants, and the raw, powerful scent of untamed life that was the open Lifestream, Jenova's smell hung, fresh and immediate. A cold counterpoint to the warmth of the exposed Mako, hers was the smell of decay and waste, so foul that Vincent constantly wondered why even normal humans couldn't sense it.  
  
He sniffed the air again. Yes, she was near...  
  
Ah... there... near the Lifestream...  
  
It would not be long now.  
  
-  
  
"Seth?"  
  
"Nnnnhuh?"  
  
"Something bad is going to happen."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"It's just... this feeling I have... I'm afraid."  
  
Seth swallowed and looked out the window. "I'm afraid too. I... I don't know if I can fight Jenova, Aerin."  
  
"I don't think Vincent wants us to." Aerin bit her lip and looked at the white-haired boy.  
  
"But we have to, don't we?" He looked back at her, his dark green eyes troubled. "I mean, we're not helpless. It's just the right thing to do. It is, isn't it?"  
  
"If you don't know," Aerin said, almost below a whisper, "no one does."  
  
Seth's fist tightened on Masamune - he hadn't realized he'd been holding it - and he looked down. He rubbed his thumb over the hilt's worn bindings, pulled the blade out an inch to study the edge.   
  
He was afraid.  
  
[You're not a little boy anymore, Seth.]  
  
There was no going back. There was no changing what had passed. He could stand paralyzed forever in the present, letting the world act upon him, or he could act upon the world.  
  
[wildflowers in the snow at the foot of the tree... laughter and the first sunlight breaking through the winter clouds... small cold hands with numb fingers brushing away the snow to free the intrepid blooms...  
  
"Momma, look!"  
  
they smelled like sunlight and life and beginnings.  
  
they smelled like...]  
  
Winter wildflowers. Jenova had wanted to summon Meteor and had used Sephiroth to do it. The Planet had bled to stop it, and it could not afford to do so again. It would die, and so would everyone and everything on it.  
  
Nanaki would die. Cloud would die. All the people of Cosmo, Midgar, Junon...  
  
There would be no more life or beauty.   
  
For the sake of the Junon traders... the people in Midgar... the people in Cosmo... for the heroes who watched the sunset without fear, for the forests of Mideel and rainbows in the Nibel mists... for the sake of just one more winter wildflower....  
  
[Will you face up to your fear?]  
  
"Yes," said a hoarse, cracked voice.  
  
Aerin smiled at him.  
  
[That's what makes the difference between courage and cowardice.]  
  
- 


	7. Chapter 7 Trial by Fire

Chapter 7 - Trial by Fire  
-  
The world was suddenly silent.  
  
One crystalline blue eye opened in silent inquiry.  
  
The birds had stopped singing, and the wind had suddenly stilled itself. The only sound was the breath of the listeners.  
  
"Wark..."  
  
"Yeah, I noticed." Grass and clothing rustled as the young boy sat up, spitting out the blade of grass he'd been chewing on. "It got quiet alluva sudden."  
  
He laced his fingers above his head and stretched out, then stood up, glancing around. Nothing seemed amiss...  
  
His chocobo screamed.  
  
-  
  
The Planet cried.  
  
It cried in pain and sorrow, sobbing wildly into the silence. Nobody would hear it, nobody could hear it. The Cetra no longer walked, having all returned to the Planet long ago. They were in its blood now, and they could not hear its cries.  
  
The pain wouldn't stop, it ached so badly, and the Planet was so tired... Holy had broken and the virus walked, the bleeding wounds would not close...  
  
(please... please just stop... please)  
  
Fire and snow, there was a soul that still walked, a soul the Planet knew terribly well. The soul of Sephiroth son of Lucrecia. His mother had returned. His father was here. Why couldn't he come back as well? Why did he linger outside the Planet's blood, poised to cause more pain?  
  
(don't hurt me any more, please don't hurt me... just come back... why won't you come back?)  
  
-  
  
The stench of waste-rot was heavy, and now he could smell traces of the sweetness that Jenova seemed to exude to disguise it.  
  
He was standing at the open Lifestream.   
  
The stream of living blood seemed distressed. It churned and roiled and made little wavelets that broke against the shores.  
  
Vincent fixed his gaze on a stand of trees just across the stream from him.  
  
"Show yourself."  
  
"If you desire."  
  
The silky voice was woven thick with a low pleasing current that threatened to overwhelm Vincent completely. He clamped his hand on his gun, flexing his claw to remind himself of his past and purpose.  
  
Twigs snapped, leaves hissed and shivered as someone passed through the brush...  
  
Vincent drew back with a sharp cry, a Wutaiian profanity he'd picked up from Faris.  
  
Lucrecia smiled demurely back at him, gazing over her half-moon spectacles at the ex-Turk.  
  
"Hello, Vincent."  
  
Vincent held himself in check, not responding. 'It is a trick, a trap, an illusion - she can change her form, you know she can, Lucrecia is *dead* she is not here it is Jenova....'  
  
The scientist shook her brown hair, smoothing it back in a nervous gesture Vincent had always thought was adorable. Her smile was exactly as he remembered it, small and hesitant but warm, her eyes a shade of green that even now haunted him in the eyes of Aerin and Seth. It was the color of sunlit emeralds, of forest hearts and new green buds.   
  
'Jenova... it is Jenova...'  
  
"It's good to see you again, Vincent." Even the voice sounded exactly like Lucrecia, down to the slightly foreign way she pronounced her words, a slight accent that Vincent had never been able to place, an accent he had later heard echoed in Aerith...  
  
"Stop it," he said, his voice strangled and desperate. She even smelled like Lucrecia... damn Jenova and her illusions...  
  
Lucrecia drew back slightly, tilting her head, her expression suddenly wounded and forlorn. "But aren't you happy to see me? I've come back, I'm alive now, truly alive... we can raise my son together, you and I, and be a family... that's what you always wanted, isn't it?"  
  
Vincent could not speak.  
  
Lucrecia held out her arms pleadingly, beautiful green eyes filled with love. "Oh Vincent, I have waited so long for you... won't you come to me? Won't you be my son's father?"  
  
Trembling, Vincent took one unsteady step forward, then another. What she offered was no more, no less than his heart's deepest desire.  
  
To have a family...   
  
His tensed hands fell lax at his sides as he took the first step into the glowing stream. Another. Another, and he was knee deep in the Planet's living blood, arms stretched forward.   
  
"Lu.... cre..... cia...."  
  
Lucrecia shed a single tear, smiling brightly, and stepped toward him, stopping just at the edge of the shore. Vincent was waist deep in the stream now, moving forth with increasing speed. It could have been molten lava and he would not have turned back.   
  
To love and be loved... to never again be looked upon with fear or hatred...  
  
"Vincent... it will be all that you desire..."  
  
To touch, without breaking, something precious... to hold... be held...  
  
"I have.... missed you so, Lucrecia..."  
  
"It will be the most intimate joining... the deepest bond, that only death can break...." She nearly stood in the stream now. "If you will only come to me..."  
  
..... to hold a child in his arms and love it and be loved by it, and raise it, and watch it thrive.......  
  
She stepped into the stream and Vincent threw his arms about her.  
  
"I love you, Lucrecia...."  
  
....to be a father....  
  
-  
  
The earth began to shake.  
  
-  
  
Aerin gasped and keeled forward, clutching at her abdomen. The world around her blurred and shifted and bled into itself like a watercolor stain. She could hear, under the rumbling and shaking of the earth and the far-off cry of a worried voice, a distant sad keening cry that cut her as surely as the blade...  
  
The blade *was* there, she felt its cruel bite stabbing through her womb even now, felt the cold steel that was robbing her of her blood and her life... it didn't matter any more, not now...  
  
But he was alive, and she could no more deny that than she could deny the plea for help that, though not her own, seemed to come from deep inside her...   
  
She was a healer, then, now, and forever. Her purpose, the force that drove her existence, was to soothe the hurts of others... and the Planet was hurt...  
  
Aerin's fingers closed around her staff as she lost herself in a sea of green.  
  
-  
  
....in the crater, something fell into the stream of living blood....  
  
-  
  
One slender arm wrapped around Vincent's broad shoulders, small thin fingers weaving into his hair. Lucrecia's smile was gentle and loving, with the same warmth that Vincent had once fallen in love with. She dipped her head into the hollow of his neck and shoulder, letting her left hand fall into the stream.  
  
=Come to me.=  
  
-  
  
The chocobo came to a stop, quivering, at the edge of the forest. A yard or two more would have taken it to the open Lifestream.  
  
The black-haired boy, somewhat out of breath from running so hard to catch his bird, clung tightly to the feathered neck, staring grimly out of the trees. He didn't know what that couple was doing in the Lifestream, during a bloody *earthquake* no less, but he figured they had better get out soon unless they wanted to die....  
  
-  
  
"Aaaaiiiiiiieeeeaaaa!!"  
  
Clutching at her hair, the distraught woman rocked back and forth, screaming and chattering in rapid Cosmo. Even Nanaki, for all his calm words and soothing presence, was hard pressed to calm her.  
  
"My child!" she was screaming. "My little daughter! The end is near and I have lost my daughter!"  
  
"She will be fine, she will be fine," Nanaki insisted urgently, pawing gently at the woman. "Illyra, do you hear me? Aerin is a strong girl with a strong soul. She will be fine."  
  
"Nanaki!"  
  
"What!?" The word was barked more than spoken as Nanaki turned his head to face the speaker. "What is it?!"  
  
Cloud stood in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame. His face, deeply tanned from years in the canyon, was ashen.  
  
"Nanaki," he gasped, "the Candle just went out!"  
  
-  
  
Aerin rose slowly, staff in hand, standing still despite the shaking earth beneath her feet.  
  
"Aerin, come on!" Seth's voice was high and urgent. "It's not safe in here, the whole place could cave in!"  
  
She turned.  
  
Seth stopped dead.  
  
Her eyes were glowing. Iris, pupil, sclera, all had disappeared into a glowing, swirling Lifestream green.  
  
As Seth stood, frozen with surprise and fear, Aerin raised her staff and charged.  
  
-  
  
Vincent's hands crept to Lucrecia's waist.  
  
-  
  
"Shiiiiiiit! This is big!!"  
  
The dragoons of old were legendary for their courage in battle. It had been said by some that nobody who bore the title of Dragon Knight felt any fear. In Cid's opinion, that was stupid. He'd learned long ago that courage wasn't about not being afraid to do something, it was about being afraid and doing it anyway.  
  
If you had asked him, as he stood in the doorway with his wife Shera at his side, his Venus Gospel firmly grasped in one hand and Bahamut Zero's Materia held in the other, Cid would not have been ashamed to admit that he was afraid.  
  
-  
  
Hand and claw closed in a strong grip on the slim waist.  
  
Lucrecia smiled at Vincent, meeting his eyes.  
  
He narrowed his eyes and coldly returned the smile.  
  
-  
  
The earth was shaking, Vincent was nowhere in sight, he was miles from any semblance of home or family, and Aerin was chasing him with murderous intent.  
  
Seth really would have liked to know how life could get any worse than that.  
  
-  
  
A roar that was more bestial than human split the air as Vincent, in a sudden burst of powerful movement, lifted Lucrecia clear out of the stream and threw her as far and as hard as he could. She struck a tree with a gasp and a sickening crack, and slumped to the ground. Before she could recover, Vincent scrambled out of the stream and leveled the Death Penalty at her heart.  
  
-  
  
...deep within the Sleeping Forest, the Lifestream churned in a freshly-opened chasm, and something small and dark was ejected from the glowing stream...  
  
-  
  
The earthquake stopped as suddenly as it had started.  
  
All over the Planet, people were momentarily stunned into inaction. Slowly, they began to relax and breathe more evenly, unfolding warily from whatever shelter they had taken.   
  
In Wutai, a single woman looked out from the top floor of the pagoda. The town had sustained minor damage, but it was nothing that could not be repaired. From here, she could hear a child crying. Her face became grim, remembering her own childhood... there had been an earthquake just before the war...  
  
Automatically, her hand rose to touch the round yellow gem set in her headband. But generations of martial artists, for all the skill and wisdom they had given her, had no answer for this.  
  
-  
  
"Vincent--"  
  
"Silence."  
  
The voice was cold, firm, and authoritative, with a threat lying just under the surface of the command. The gun hand did not waver.  
  
She swallowed and kept her tongue. Maybe she could not pull his strings, but she knew him well enough to realize that Vincent Valentine did not make idle threats - and that he was probably strong enough to follow up on this particular one.  
  
"I am not such easy prey as you would imagine, Jenova."  
  
"No," Jenova replied, Lucrecia's mouth twisting into a mirthless smirk, "it seems you are not."  
  
Vincent could not have said why he hesitated. The crisis from the sky sat helpless before him, staring up at him with a mixture of fear and strange, grudging respect. Jenova, the living virus, plague of the Cetra, poison of souls, blight on the Planet, was at his mercy.  
  
He did not shoot.  
  
He remembered Lucrecia - the true Lucrecia, not the shapechanged spectre in front of him - sitting on a Cetra-sculpted throne in perfect solitude, weeping bitter tears for her own interminable life and the son she never got to hold. The last moments he had spent with the poor, wretched woman, brought to ruin by the very monster that now dared to take her form.   
  
Vincent never saw her again. He supposed - hoped - that she had made an end of it, silencing her shame and finding peace within the Lifestream.  
  
When he went back to the cave, she had left him a gun.  
  
Nothing more. No memento of her existence, not the slightest shred of evidence that she had ever been. Only the gun. And a deep, unhealing scar on his heart from which his Chaos had been born.  
  
That same gun was still leveled at Jenova's heart.   
  
Jenova had corrupted Lucrecia's son, brought him irredeemably into darkness. Death had been the only salvation. Jenova lived in the cells of his own body, giving his demons a way to take form. The Cetra had died by her, and if she were allowed to live free, the Planet would soon follow.  
  
He could not shoot.  
  
As if sensing his difficulty, Jenova narrowed her eyes. "Why don't you get it over with?"  
  
The tiniest jolt ran through Vincent's body, and his eyes widened just the smallest fraction of an inch. "What?"  
  
"I'm right here in front of you. You know what I am, you know what I intend to do. But you don't shoot. Why?" Thin lips stretched into a predatory smirk. "Can you not kill your darling Lucrecia?"  
  
Vincent's trigger finger twitched.  
  
"I learn from those I infect, dear Vincent. I can see their memories, their feelings... she might have loved you, Vincent. Why, if it weren't for me, and for the good Professor Hojo, things might have been different..."  
  
Vincent's hand trembled.  
  
"Just think, Vincent..." Jenova's smile grew wider, exposing a pale line of teeth. "If not for me... you might have been the one to put the ring on Lucrecia's finger... my son might have had black hair..."  
  
Vincent couldn't breathe.  
  
"He might have been *your* son, Vincent."  
  
Vincent pulled the trigger.  
  
Jenova smiled triumphantly at him, not flinching as she began to bleed.   
  
"So you have killed me," she whispered.  
  
"Stay that way," Vincent said, his voice ragged.  
  
Jenova rose carefully to her feet, still smiling. "You truly believe, then, that what you have done is right."  
  
"You corrupted Sephiroth," he growled. "You poisoned Lucrecia. You destroyed the Cetra. You are a blight upon this world."  
  
She began to laugh.  
  
Vincent's spine froze.  
  
"Then you do as you think best for this Planet," she hissed, "and I will do the same."  
  
-  
  
Seth desperately brought up the sheathed Masamune to block the ornate wooden staff. Had he been just a bit slower, he would likely not have lived to tell of it.  
  
Aerin brought her staff back, Mako-pool eyes blazing, readying herself for another strike. Seth only barely managed, again, to block it, scrambling to his feet and trying to back away. He tripped on his cape.  
  
As he landed, Masamune was jarred from his hand and landed a foot away.  
  
Recovering, he lifted his head to see the staff bearing down on him.  
  
-  
  
"VINCENT!!!"  
  
-  
  
In the single moment that Vincent was distracted by the cry, Jenova shed her disguise and took to the air.  
  
-  
  
The boy had seen enough. He swung up onto his chocobo's back and kicked his heels into the bird's sides.  
  
"Yah, Strife!"  
  
-  
  
Vincent crossed the stream once more and was running. He cursed himself for allowing Jenova to escape, but Seth, for reasons, he could not articulate, was more important now.  
  
-  
  
The staff struck the ground where Seth had been only a moment before. He rolled, felt his hand close on Masamune's scabbard, and desperately swung it around to collide with Aerin's weapon. The impact knocked both weapons from their wielders' hands. Without even stopping to think rationally about his actions, Seth stood and got between Aerin and her staff, bracing his hands against her shoulders in an effort to push her back.  
  
No blood, there would and could be no blood...  
  
Aerin fought back with a strength he had not expected, digging her nails savagely into his arms, baring her teeth and pushing back against him as though his defeat were all that mattered.  
  
"Aerin, stop!" Seth's voice was choked with fear. "Aerin, it's me! It's Seth! I'm not your enemy! AERIN!"  
  
He saw a flash of red and black and gold...  
  
-  
  
In the full sunlight, there was a flash of gold.  
  
Rage consumed the black-haired boy, pounded in his veins and exploded behind his eyes. Jenova was *alive*, damn her... hadn't she caused enough damage? Hadn't Cloud and the others *killed* her enough?!  
  
The part of him that knew her realized, with a heavy certainty, that you could never kill Jenova enough. SOLDIERs, yes, you could kill SOLDIERs, but only because they were still, above it all, human. The last survivors of the SOLDIER program would be standing to see the world end, but only if the world didn't find a way to kill them first. Jenova would be there, age, disease, and injury be damned. You just couldn't kill the bitch.  
  
That man - Vincent - was foolish to keep trying. Foolish and brave.  
  
He remembered Vincent, from long ago...  
  
-  
  
Seth stood on weak legs, panting, shaking, staring in disbelief at the prone form that lay at his feet.  
  
Vincent knelt down beside her, feeling her head with his good hand.  
  
"She will be alright," he pronounced finally. "I did not hit her hard enough to cause any real damage. If she wakes up with a headache, that will be the worst of it."  
  
Seth swallowed. "Sh... should we take her to the clinic?"  
  
"No. It will be better for her to awaken in the inn. It will not be so harsh as the hospital. Get her staff."  
  
Nodding shakily, Seth bent to retrieve the weapons, strapping Masamune back around his waist. The weight was somehow both reassuring and depressing. As he stood back up, Aerin's staff in hand, his eyes met with those of a stranger.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Seth blinked, disconcerted yet at the moment unable to really be shocked. A part of him dimly noted that the boy standing in front of him looked uncomfortably familiar, and that yes, that thing beside him could not be anything but a gold chocobo.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"She gonna be okay?" The strange boy gestured behind Seth to Vincent, who had just gathered the unconscious Cosmo into his arms.  
  
"She will. Who are you?"  
  
The boy brought his hand up to his forehead in a brief motion that could almost have been a salute. "My name's Zair Virago. Here, you can put her up on Strife here, he'll be real steady with her. So who're you?" His query was suddenly directed at Seth as Vincent moved to place Aerin on the huge chocobo's back. "I know Valentine here, but who're you?"  
  
"Seth Drasil," Seth said vaguely. "From Nibelheim."  
  
"Nibelheim." Zair's voice sounded oddly distant for a moment. "Nice place, eh?"  
  
"I always thought so." Seth was extremely uncomfortable with this topic. "Um, her name is Aerin Carae. She's from Cosmo. Thought you might want to know."  
  
"Aerin... pretty name. Suits her."  
  
Vincent stepped up beside them. "You may continue your conversation at the inn. Aerin needs to rest and we must prepare to depart."  
  
"What?" Seth blinked, standing still for a moment as the others began to move with Strife in tow. He quickly moved to catch up and kept pace with Vincent. "Wait, what happened? Didn't you find Jenova?"  
  
"I did," Vincent said, his voice dull. "It... did not go as well as I would have hoped. She managed to escape and has likely left the island."  
  
"Yeah," Zair offered. "I saw her leave. Looked like she was heading straight north."  
  
Vincent turned to stare at Zair. He shrugged.  
  
"What? I know about Jenova. You've got a lot of courage to stand up to her, you know. I want to help you if I can."  
  
"I think we'll need it," Seth mumbled.  
  
-  
  
Cloud sat slumped over the table in his room, glaring at the PHS in his hand as though daring it to ring again.  
  
Everything had been calm in Cosmo for about twenty seconds after the earthquake. The Candle had suddenly flared back to life and was now burning innocently, just as bright as ever. Everyone had been silent for a time.  
  
Then the talking had started - a sudden boom of speculation and exchanges of thoughts and fears. The most coherent thing he'd heard had been from Nanaki, who had calmly hypothesized that something terrible must have happened but sorted itself out. The only problem was, what had happened?  
  
Earthquakes weren't common, especially not here, but there was nothing greatly unusual about them. Growing pains, he had affectionately dubbed them after one had hit about a year after Sephiroth's defeat. The Planet was a living thing, after all, and it was still growing up.  
  
But he had never, ever heard of a quake that shook the entire damn Planet up.  
  
Yuffie had called from Wutai to inform him of it. He'd gotten an earful of profanity before "hello" when Cid called from Rocket Town. Reeve in Midgar had sounded like he had about one nerve left and it was rapidly fraying. Barret in Corel had been almost as bad as Cid. Tifa in Costa del Sol just sounded highly worried. By all accounts, any needed repairs were well underway. It hadn't been a severe earthquake, but it had been disturbingly widespread and Cloud had the sinking feeling that it had probably hit Mideel and Icicle too. This was not normal.  
  
Nothing seemed normal anymore. The winter storms had come about a season early (he clearly remembered Tifa's incredulous call about three days ago, which had nearly deafened him and gave him new insights into Tifa's vocabulary), a kid who looked just like Sephiroth had shown up in town, and Aerin had run away, leaving only a note where she insisted "terrible things" would happen if she didn't follow Seth. And the Cosmo Candle had gone out for the first time in... decades, at least. No, nothing seemed normal. And this time there wasn't even a tangible threat to combat, as there had been with Sephiroth.  
  
The PHS did not respond to Cloud's glare. The swordsman was half angry and half glad. Vincent was the only member of AVALANCHE that had not called to report anything. It would have soothed Cloud's nerves to hear any news from Vincent, but at the same time he dreaded the news Vincent would probably have.  
  
Sighing, Cloud dropped the phone on the table and dropped his head on his outstretched arms.   
  
'Just when you thought it was safe to go outside,' he thought sardonically.  
  
-  
  
...falling into herself again...  
  
Aerin shifted weakly in the bed. Her head hurt.  
  
She opened her eyes, squinting in the light...   
  
[Shielding her eyes from the direct light, she looked up through the roof of the ruined church. This was one of the few places that got any real light under the Plate, and was just about the only place where these flowers grew.   
  
He was late.  
  
Sighing slightly, she went back to the flowers. She couldn't be mad at him; he *had* said he might not be able to make it. He'd promised to come if he could, but he had warned that he might be, as he put it, "detained by menial tasks assigned to me by the Supreme Assholes of Shinra-gods-of-our-world-have-mercy-on-us-wretched-mortals." Just thinking about that remark made her snicker.  
  
A spiky shadow fell over her just as a male voice said, "That's strange, I don't see anything funny down there."  
  
"Zax!" She turned around, laughing. Broad shoulders and thick black hair and that scar on his cheek and a smile that could have made the flowers grow... "You came!"  
  
"Of course I came!" The young SOLDIER pulled the girl to her feet, smiling. "Seph's gonna give me the look of death tomorrow, but Shinra can't expect me to put off a visit to my absolute most favorite flower girl in the whole wide world just to do some snotty paperwork for Heidegger. I can do it tomorrow and Heidegger can kiss my ass."  
  
She punched him, laughing. "Zax! Bite your tongue!"  
  
Zax grinned. "Oh, certainly, my dear lady, but may I humbly suggest that I can do much more fun things with my tongue?"  
  
"Pervert!" She yanked one of his bangs, still laughing helplessly. "Honestly, Zax, you're absolutely hopeless."  
  
"Absolutely hopeless and damn sexy, you mean."  
  
"Zax!!"....  
  
.....I'm glad you came...]  
  
"Za... x..." Aerin croaked. Her eyes were adjusting to the light now, and she could see a mass of spiky black hair...  
  
And bright sky-colored eyes that were heavy with concern and unnamable feelings. "Aerin, right? Are you okay?"  
  
She blinked and sat up slowly, wincing and touching the tender spot at the back of her head. "Ow... what happened?"  
  
"Aerin!" Seth suddenly appeared in her field of vision. "You're awake, thank Odin - how do you feel?"  
  
"I think I hit my head somehow," she said. Trying to remember how that could possibly have happened brought back a lot of memories, more than she wanted to know. She pitched forward with a moan under the onslaught.  
  
The Planet... crying... a cry for help... the virus... the son of Lucrecia...  
  
So much of it was jumbled impressions from the Planet and not her own thoughts, but as she struggled to pull an idea of her own from the mess, the entire situation suddenly turned very clear, and very cold.  
  
"Seth... I'm sorry..."  
  
"What happened?" he murmured, his voice sorrowful. "I know you wouldn't attack me... and your eyes... what happened to you?"  
  
"The Planet..." her voice was a whisper. "The Planet wants you dead."  
  
"What?!" The two boys spoke at the exact same time, eyes wide.  
  
Aerin lifted her gaze to rest on Seth. "It wants you to come back... It's afraid you'll hurt it again. It doesn't know who you are - just who you were."  
  
"But I'm not going to hurt it!" Seth cried. "I'm trying to get rid of Jenova so the Planet will be safe! I absolutely don't want to become Sephiroth again!!"  
  
The other boy's head snapped around to stare at Seth.  
  
"The Planet doesn't know that," Aerin replied, beginning to sob. "Seth, it's so afraid, and hurt - it has to fight! It doesn't know what else it can do! It can't make another Weapon, it can't afford to bleed again to stop another Meteor, but if it doesn't fight, it will die! And Jenova's alive, and Holy's broken... Oh, Seth! I *am* the Planet's last weapon!!"  
  
Seth blinked, looking horrified, and sank slowly back into the chair. "Then... it wants you to kill me..."  
  
Aerin curled up, shaking her head miserably. "That's why I had to follow you... I didn't know why, just that it would be bad if I didn't... I followed you to kill you... I can't come with you any more, Seth."  
  
He had been expecting the words, but they still stung. "...I understand," he choked. "But... how will you get back home?"  
  
"I can take her."  
  
The two looked at the third boy in astonishment.  
  
"You mean it, Zair?" Seth blinked. "You only just met us just today, and she lives in Cosmo..." His chest felt suddenly tight as he realized how very far Aerin was from home, and on his account, but he continued. "You'd really do that for her?"  
  
The black-haired boy nodded. "Of course I would." He then turned to face Aerin, smiling sadly. "For you, anything."  
  
Aerin shrunk back slightly into the covers, a bit confused and just slightly worried.   
  
"Who are you?" Her voice was small and thin. "I don't think I know you." 'But you look so familiar...'  
  
Zair leaned closer to her and sighed, the sad smile not leaving his face. Aerin stared into those sky-fragment eyes and strove to remember them.  
  
'I think I knew you once...'  
  
"I knew you once," the boy said, his voice low. "We weren't the same then."  
  
"What... do you mean?"  
  
"Like Seth. We're dead people, all of us." A small, self-deprecating smirk. "Too stubborn to stay that way. You're the Planet's weapon, right? Well, if it didn't have the energy to create a weapon, where do you think it got the life energy? It just pulled someone out of the Lifestream. Not just anyone, though... it had to know that the weapon would fight for it. You did fight for the Planet once... you called Holy... do you remember? Your mother's Materia... the altar in the Ancients' city?"  
  
"I don't remember... Did I meet you there?"  
  
"I think you saw me for a moment," Zair said, his voice half a whisper, "when you died there."  
  
Aerin's hand flew to her midsection.  
  
[She said the closing words that would complete the incantation for Holy and lifted her head, smiling. Cloud stood before her, his face as grim as always.  
  
"It's alright," she wanted to say, to make those eyes lighten, that mouth twitch into a smile. "I've done it. Meteor won't come."  
  
She never had a chance to speak... in the next moment, Sephiroth and the Masamune... a sudden pain as she knew she was silenced, but she smiled to the end because no silence would bind her now - she had called Holy - she would be part of the Planet now and she would make it live...  
  
As her vision dimmed, she thought she saw another pair of blue eyes glowing in the darkness behind Cloud, surrounded by a halo of thick black hair.... and then there was only the green.]  
  
"I did see you!" Aerin cried. "You were there - with Cloud - I thought you'd forgotten me, but you didn't! You never did!"  
  
"Never," Zair affirmed, smiling. "Never, ever, ever. I never meant to leave you, Aerith."  
  
Aerin smiled tremulously, her eyes watering.  
  
"Zax... I *missed* you."  
  
He leaned forward to wrap his arms around her. "I missed you too."  
  
Seth rose and padded silently out of the room. This was not, to his thinking, a conversation he should be present for. Vaguely, he remembered Zax talking about his "wonderful one-in-a-million I want to marry this girl and have 2.5 kids and a dog" girlfriend... even after death and rebirth, the lovers still remembered each other. As the once-murderer of Aerith, Seth felt hideously out of place in this reunion.  
  
His departure went unnoticed.   
  
"Zax..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
".....I'm glad you came."  
  
-  
  
They spent that night in Mideel. Vincent insisted on leaving by first light so that Jenova wouldn't have as much of a head start, so everyone was up and moving before dawn. Aerin had packed everything up and gotten Gypsum off the Tycoon. Zair had consulted his parents about taking Aerin home, and had told them as gently as he could that he probably wouldn't come back, wanting to make up for lost time with Aerith. He promised, however, that he absolutely would keep in touch, unless he got eaten by a sea dragon or something.  
  
The Tycoon was a huge, silent shadow in the harbor, looking like a sleeping dragon as its sails fluttered in the pre-dawn light. Just down the shore, a comparatively tiny shape was fitting a harness on the glittering form of a gold chocobo, its oddly metallic plumage shining even in the faint half-light. A sharply contrasting black chocobo stood just beside it. Behind them, attached with long straps to the gold's harness, a small raft bobbed in the water. Farther up, just at the edge of the forest, a pair of friends were bidding farewell to each other, each one depressingly aware that they might be the last words they ever exchanged.  
  
"I'm going to miss you, Seth."  
  
Seth tried to smile. "After we get Jenova, I'll come and visit you. I promise."  
  
Aerin dipped her head once. "What I said still stands, you know. You'll always have a home in Cosmo Canyon, if it doesn't work out in Midgar."  
  
"I'll remember that." Seth sighed and looked out over the horizon. For a moment, there were no words.  
  
"I don't know how much of Aerith carried over," Aerin finally said. "I'm probably not going to be anything like a Cetra. But I'll try to talk to the Planet... I'll put in a good word for you." She smiled slightly.  
  
Seth grinned weakly back at her. "Thanks. I'll try and live up to it."  
  
"You won't have to try," she said softly. "Just be. Just be Seth. My words, your actions, and the Planet's heart will do the rest."  
  
Cupping his face in her hands, she stood up on tiptoe and kissed him on the forehead. Pulling away, she smiled brightly at him.  
  
"And you have to promise not to go insane again."  
  
Seth's laughter carried through the thin dawn air all the way to the Tycoon.  
  
"I promise," he said, holding her hand and giving it a squeeze. "And you have to promise to live. For Zair, for Cloud, your mom, and me. And for Aerith."  
  
"I will," she said, "if you do."  
  
He caught her up in a brief, tight hug.  
  
"I will."  
  
When he pulled back, his eyes were misty. Behind him, the sun broke over the eastern horizon.  
  
Aerin swallowed and smiled at him sadly, remembering a sunrise on another shore.   
  
On a sudden impulse, she reached up to her ponytail. Small deft fingers undid the knot in the short leather thong and drew the charm from her hair, presenting it to Seth. Unfettered, her hair fell in dusky waves about her shoulders.  
  
"Here," she said softly. "It's a charm made with a real Phoenix down. It'll bring you good luck."  
  
With wide eyes, Seth took the charm from her hands, brushed his fingers over the large, fiery feather that dominated the design. He felt terribly unworthy.  
  
"Aerin," he said in a low voice, "this is yours. I can't--"  
  
"Shut up." Aerin smiled at him, closing his fingers over the ornament. "Just keep it until you beat Jenova. See, now you *have* to live because you have to bring this back, so you *can't* die until you bring it back."  
  
Seth began to laugh in response, a single tear dripping down his cheek.  
  
"Got it. I promise not to die before that."  
  
She hugged him again and didn't let go this time. He felt her tears on his neck; but that was okay, because he was crying too.  
  
"Goodbye," she whispered as she pulled away and, without looking at him again, walked away.   
  
Seth turned away, wiping his eyes as Aerin walked to the shore. He couldn't watch her leave. He wasn't sure he could bear to watch as Zair embraced her tenderly and helped her and Gypsum onto the raft, didn't think he could stand to see the gentle kiss on her cheek. He stood with his face to the forest as Zair clambered onto the raft after Aerin and shook Strife's reins. The gold chocobo turned and obediently climbed into the water, pulling the raft behind it as it swam out to sea.  
  
He didn't see Aerin wave goodbye. 


	8. Chapter 8 Truth

Chapter 8 - Truth  
-  
I did this ALL in one night. @_@ Thank you all for the wonderful reviews~! And thanks especially to LuvLuvG, I truly think that is the coolest review I have ever had~ *__*  
  
Faithful readers, do not despair - this is actually a moderately happy chapter to make up for the Evil That Was Chapter 7. XD You're all going to hate me for the left turn in this chapter, but go back and read the story *carefully*... I contradict nothing. Mwahahaha. ::does the Sephiroth laugh that scares her friend Whitney:: XD  
  
And it was necessary to mangle Faris' family situation in FF5 for this to make sense. Sheesh, she's getting enough development that I think I might take her off cameo status... speaking of cameos, Faemdos and Lamkin are from Vagrant Story. ^_^  
  
Oh, and for art and pretty HTMLized story: http://bloodoftheplanet.0catch.com  
  
Incidentally - Faris swears like a sailor in this one. Because she is, you know. ^_^  
  
-  
'Winter storms, my ass.'  
  
The sky was beautifully clear, and the wind was strong but benign. It would have carried them all day even with just the sails, and Faris had decided to let them down to take advantage of it. The solar collectors were adjusted for optimal reception, the cells were fully charged with the excess power, and there wasn't a bloody storm in sight.   
  
Every major port had a group of people who monitored the ocean weather and broadcast their findings by radio. Recently they'd detected the early signs of the winter storms about three months early. They'd found it odd but chosen not to take chances. Faris was beginning to think they'd been too hasty. In this weather, the ship practically sailed itself. In fact, right now it was sailing itself. The day was just too nice to spend behind the controls instead of out and about.  
  
"Just about a day on a straight course and we'll be at Bone," she announced to Vincent, who was standing beside her.   
  
"Let us hope that is enough time."  
  
"Fuh. It better be."  
  
Vincent looked up at the sky. Faris took in a deep breath of sea air, then turned to face her friend again.  
  
"How's Seth holding up?" she asked softly.  
  
"He's still sane." Vincent's remark was only half facetious. "So far as I can tell."  
  
"Mm." Faris looked back out at the sea. "It's too bad, really. He really liked her, huh?"  
  
"They were close."  
  
Faris closed her eyes, listening to the song of the waves. She thought about the day she'd lost her mother. She remembered saying good night and kissing her mother on the cheek that last night. She had been on herbal medicine and it seemed to have been working well; she'd sworn she'd probably be up and able to climb Da-chao within the week. Faris remembered saying, that last night, that they'd climb it together when she got better.  
  
She remembered Lenna shaking her awake that next morning, and knowing from Lenna's eyes what had happened before she even asked.  
  
["Faris.... Faris, wake up..."  
  
"nnhuh? Lenna...? What? What's wrong?"  
  
"Faris... Mother's dead."]  
  
Their mother had been a strong woman, Midgar born and bred. Their father had been from Kalm, and had moved to Midgar to try and make it big in the big city. Several years later, when Faris was still young and Lenna was barely speaking, they had moved to Wutai.   
  
Faris remembered holding Lenna before the move, reassuring the tiny girl, saying that no, Meteor wouldn't take them, they were safe... she remembered looking up into the sky and seeing it free of the evil star, and laughing and crying and spinning Lenna around and being held so tightly by their parents....  
  
She remembered the black kimono she wore for the funeral, how the sash had been tied too tight and it rained on the day they buried her. She remembered letting Lenna cry on her shoulder again. She remembered the day she got the Tycoon, and dedicated it to her mother's maiden name. The seas had heard her laughter, and drunk her tears.  
  
"I'm going to talk to him."  
  
"That might be a good idea." Vincent closed his eyes. "He would probably respond much better to you than to myself."  
  
Faris nodded, already heading for the stairs. "Let me know if anything happens up here."  
  
-  
  
She found him curled up on his bed, his boots tossed carelessly aside, the sheathed Masamune in his arms.   
  
'It's not fair,' she thought desperately. 'He's such a nice kid, and he has all this crap hanging over his head. He shouldn't have to know he was Sephiroth. He shouldn't have had to say goodbye to Aerin.'  
  
"Hey, Seth."  
  
Seth raised his head slowly, looking up at her with pained green eyes. Faris sighed and sat down next to him.  
  
"How you doing?" she asked gently.  
  
"Life sucks." Seth bowed his head again. Faris smiled sadly and put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"I know, kid. Believe me, I know. Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
"No..." Seth shook his head slowly, but uncurled slightly from his ball and, with a sigh, adjusted his position to lean against the captain's shoulder. "But... stay?"  
  
She pulled him closer with one arm. "As long as I can."  
  
There was nothing said for a few minutes. Seth buried his face in Faris' shoulder, and she rubbed his shoulder gently, offering as much comfort as she could in that limited embrace.  
  
"You're like... a mother..."  
  
"I'm a sister. Does that count?" Faris smiled slightly.  
  
The smile faded when she felt tears on her shoulder. "Hey, Seth... what's wrong?"  
  
"My heart... I feel like my heart's going to break..."  
  
She twisted around, wrapping her other arm around him. "You miss her, don't you? Aerin."  
  
"Aerin... and my mom."  
  
"Oh." Faris gave him a squeeze. "What happened...?"  
  
"She's... she went back to the Planet..."  
  
Faris bowed her head.  
  
["Don' worry, Lenna.... Mother went back to the Planet... she's *always* gonna be here."]  
  
"I know how that feels," she whispered. "My mom... she died when I was really little."  
  
"How did she die?"  
  
"She was sick... for a long time..."  
  
"My mom... she's dead because of me..."  
  
"Seth!" She tilted his chin up. "Don't blame yourself. What could you have done?"  
  
His face was streaked with tears. "Faris, you don't understand... I *killed* her. I'm just like Sephiroth..."  
  
"What in Leviathan's name do you mean by that? You're *nothing* like Sephiroth."  
  
"Yes I am.... I am!" He tore away, curling back into himself. "I... I did the same thing he did... when he went mad... it was an accident!!"  
  
"Seth, what did you do!"  
  
"I was fighting... Masamune called me out to come get it and that was where it should have ended, I just wanted to go home and sleep..! And there was a pack of wolves and they were hungry... I had to fight!... And... I cast Fire... and... the wolf dodged... and the spell... kept going...."  
  
His voice rose to a howl.  
  
"And Nibelheim was right there!"  
  
As he began to sob, Faris felt her heart break. It was so horribly unfair. Sephiroth had been given a second chance, and even then he got a raw deal. He had lost so much, and by his own hand, without even meaning to... and he would be forever haunted by the knowledge that it didn't *have* to happen...  
  
'If he cast another spell... or didn't cast any spell... or hadn't been out that night... He must have been over this a thousand times in his mind, wondering what he could have done to change things...'  
  
"Oh, Seth."  
  
She pulled him into his arms again.  
  
"You poor thing..."  
  
She'd lost her mother to illness. Slow, painful, incurable, inevitable. But nobody made her get sick. Seth's hands were stained with the blood of his mother and everyone in the town, and he'd never even wanted to do it.  
  
As he cried into her shirt, there was a knock at the door. Faris turned her head sharply and snapped.  
  
"WHAT THE *FUCK* IS IT?!"  
  
The door swung open to reveal Vincent's bloody image.  
  
"Faris, there is a storm approaching."  
  
-  
  
Of all the GODSDAMNED BLOODY FUCKING SHITEATING bad timing--  
  
Faris didn't even know if she yelled that aloud as she dashed up the stairs, leaving Vincent with Seth without even time to properly apologize to the poor kid. She hadn't even seen any clouds on the horizon....  
  
As soon as she got on deck she was brutally assailed by a biting wind and stinging raindrops. The southern wind was now blowing to the west, and the poor Tycoon was completely at its mercy. Struggling to see through the storm, she could see that land was coming up - too fast to even try to slow down - and there was a *river* -  
  
It was stupid, it was dangerous, and it was a hell of a lot better than the alternative.  
  
"Faemdos!" she screamed to the nearest crew member. "Get to the engine room! Cut all power from the cells and pull the engine in! Full sail mode!"  
  
As he scrambled to obey, she turned to two others. "Help me with the sails - we're riding this wind downriver!"  
  
-  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
".... I'll be fine."  
  
-  
  
"This is insane!"  
  
"No kidding." Zair sighed. "See, now you know why nobody ever sails in winter. This is a classic winter storm. We were lucky to get ashore in one piece."  
  
Aerin stared at the retreating storm in disbelief.  
  
"I can't believe the raft stayed intact," she said, her voice filled with awe.  
  
"Didn't even lose any provisions," Zair agreed. "We are one lucky pair of dead people, you know that?"  
  
"Only we're not dead," Aerin said, turning around to sort of smile. "Though after that storm, it's hard to tell."  
  
Zair's smile seemed wrong, somehow. Too dark, self-deprecating. It wasn't right for that soul.  
  
"Don't smile like that."  
  
Zair stopped smiling and looked at her in surprise.  
  
"Zax didn't smile like that. It doesn't look right on you."  
  
He grinned. Still too sad...  
  
"Well then I'll try and do it right for you."  
  
Aerin's heartstrings twanged.  
  
"Even now..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"....you'll still do anything for me, won't you?"  
  
He bowed his head. "I never stopped loving you. You're still my... absolute most favorite flower girl in the whole wide world."  
  
"I feel so bad... I thought you'd found another girl."  
  
"Never," he said vehemently. "Never, ever."  
  
Aerin sat down.  
  
"But... I don't know if I am your flower girl any more."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I keep thinking of Seth," she said, looking up at the half-clouded sky as Zair stood beside her. "He's Sephiroth, and if you didn't know, and didn't see him with the Masamune, you'd never guess. I'm starting to remember... the cold man who hated everything, who had no heart left to love with." She shook her head. "I can't believe that Seth is *truly* him. I know it's the same soul, but... Seth was so kind to me. He wouldn't even fight back when the Planet made me attack him..."  
  
She looked up at Zair, seeming troubled.  
  
"I was raised differently from Aerith and I didn't remember anything of her until now... All I knew was that Cloud and Nanaki always said I looked like her. I didn't think it meant anything. I'm not even a Cetra anymore. Are we still the same people? Can we even go back to how we were before we died?"  
  
Zair sat down beside her, looking up. His face was so much younger, and unscarred, his wild hair tied back now, his eyes without their glow... but there was still so much of Zax in that face. He remembered everything, Aerin had come to understand. He had held on to all his memories. Zax was still alive inside of him and wouldn't die.  
  
He turned his sky-ice eyes to her.   
  
"Can we try?"  
  
-  
  
The air here was thick with fog from the silver mountains down to the Cosmo desert, where the heat evaporated it. It was thin enough over the Tycoon to be able to see things, but not by much.  
  
"Captain, with all due respect, you're completely insane."  
  
"It worked, didn't it?" Faris smirked. "What's the damage?"  
  
"As far as we can tell, and we can't believe this - none. You had us scared to death with that stunt. You know you could have ripped the bottom of the ship out."  
  
"Yeah, I know. We *were* lucky that the river was so deep."  
  
"And that we weren't going half as fast by the end of it, and that the riverbed here is sandy, and that we didn't crash on the cliff walls... face it, Captain, we're all lucky to be alive."  
  
"I know. But we had to take the chance. It was a sure thing that if we'd hit the shore at the speed we were going, if we didn't all die, the Tycoon would be in so many pieces it would be useless. And then Vincent would have shot me. Thanks, Lamkin, you're dismissed."  
  
"Give me more credit, Faris." Vincent emerged from below deck, Seth following. "I'm not that heartless. I'd just have crucified you."  
  
"Oh, thank you," she said sarcastically, saluting. "Makes me feel a lot better. Hey, Seth, how are you doing? Sorry I had to just leave like that."  
  
Seth smiled waveringly. "It's okay."  
  
"If you need to talk later, I'll be here." She smiled encouragingly, then looked up as Vincent walked up beside her. "Yes? What?"  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
"Cross-continent," she said with a rueful smile. "Just north of Cosmo."  
  
Seth stiffened.  
  
"We are close to Nibelheim, then," Vincent said.   
  
Faris noticed how Seth suddenly looked away, clenching his fists. "Vincent... this isn't..."  
  
"What?" The look in his eyes told Faris that *something* was up. "The mountains are just north of here... you can see the peaks from where we stand, even through the fog."  
  
"Vincent, shut up!" Faris hissed. "Seth's right there!"  
  
The ex-Turk turned.   
  
"I don't see him," he said calmly.  
  
"Great. He must've run off below deck. *Nice* job, Vince. Do you have *any* clue what happened to him? What he's *lost*?"  
  
"Less than he imagines," Vincent murmured.  
  
"LIKE HELL--"  
  
"This is the lie I have told," Vincent murmured, his voice beginning to sound guilty. "If you go north, you will see precisely how much he has lost. And you will see why I would not tell you what I have kept from him."  
  
"What the hell *are* you keeping from him?"  
  
He told her.  
  
Her eyes grew wide, her jaw slack. She stared into his eyes as though searching for the truth in those pools of blood.  
  
"Now you know the truth," he said softly.   
  
She slapped him.  
  
Vincent Valentine, formerly of the Turks, subject of five years of horrific genetic treatments, now stronger than most humans, was knocked to the ground. The memory of her own mother's death and her sympathy for the homeless, heartbroken orphan that had been crying on her shoulder had lent her arm a strength beyond even that earned from years on the sea.  
  
She took two fistfuls of his red mantle before he could recover and shook him violently, her teeth bared in fury.  
  
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL HIM??!"  
  
Vincent opened his mouth to answer, but Faris cut him off at the pass.  
  
"Do you have any *idea* how much he's suffered because of your bloody *testing*?! How much he's hurting, how *broken* he is when a single *word* on your part could have *healed* him?!!"  
  
One gloved hand and one claw closed on her wrists with painful force. Vincent's face was serious and full of real regret.  
  
"I do know," he said softly. "And I will tell him."  
  
"When?" she hissed. "Tomorrow? Next week? To his *grave*?!"  
  
"I will tell him," he said testily, "as soon as you let go of me."  
  
-  
  
Seth was feeding Zion when Vincent found him.  
  
"Hello, Seth."  
  
"Hi, Vincent." Seth offered Vincent the bag of greens. "Mari's hungry and I don't think she likes me. You feed her."  
  
"She is cold to others," Vincent replied. "It is not easy to win her affection."  
  
"Kinda like you."  
  
That stung. Vincent shook a few greens into Mari's trough. The chocobo blinked her red eyes at him and chirped slightly in thanks before starting to eat.  
  
"Yes," he said quietly, "I suppose so."  
  
"I can't decide whether I admire you or hate you, you know?" Seth's voice was reminiscent. "I can think of a lot of reasons to think you're the coldest bastard on the face of the earth. But then you do things that don't fit with that. Watching over me while I was sick. And I can't forget what you said to me the day after... when I was spazzing and you had your arm around me... You kinda reminded me of my dad, right then. Except Dad was happier."  
  
Vincent nodded, standing beside Seth. "I have little in my life to celebrate."  
  
"It must suck," Seth said quietly. "Do you have any family? Friends besides Faris and AVALANCHE?"  
  
"None," Vincent said quietly. "I have no family or home to return to."  
  
Seth turned to him with sad eyes. "What do you live for?"  
  
Vincent shook his head. "I do not know."  
  
The Nibel boy scratched Zion's ear, eyes downcast. "I can't imagine," he said softly. "I mean... I at least have Aunt Lena in Midgar. I have something to live for, even though Nibelheim's...." He shook his head.  
  
"Seth," Vincent said softly, "about Nibelheim...."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Vincent closed his eyes and sighed. "I have not told you... I was there, the night of the fire."  
  
Seth jumped and turned to face Vincent with wide eyes. "What?!"  
  
Vincent was already taking the single green orb from its socket in Death Penalty. He held it up for Seth to see.  
  
"Master Magic," he said softly. "A gift from the Planet. Whoever holds this gem holds all the power of the Cetra. From the magic that shaped the waterfall cave and made this gun.... to the tiniest ice spell."  
  
The look in Seth's eyes said that he was starting to put two and two together.  
  
"I would not stand by and let an entire town burn to the ground. Not when I possessed the power to stop it."  
  
"Then..."  
  
Vincent smiled sadly, his eyes strangely gentle. "No one was killed. No one was hurt. One house sustained a small amount of damage, but beyond that, nothing. Your mother is alive, Seth. Your town still stands. I had no excuse to keep this from you, and I am sorry."  
  
Seth began to smile first, and then to laugh, great peals of the wildest, happiest laughter Vincent had heard since the day the Planet was saved, laughter followed by tears and Seth was sobbing and laughing and flung his arms around Zion and then around Vincent and cried on his shoulder and was still laughing hysterically until he couldn't breathe, unable to speak or act or do anything but cry and laugh and hold on to Vincent, and the man held him back and began, for the first time in decades, to shed tears of his own.  
  
In that moment, Vincent began to feel a stirring in his heart he hadn't felt since... when had he felt this?   
  
When had he felt like a father?  
  
-  
  
It was with some satisfaction that Faris let down the ramp for Seth and Zion. It was agreed that Seth would go alone to Nibelheim. This was his time, and he had earned it.  
  
Faris and Vincent stood at the side of the ship, watched as the black chocobo and his rider streaked away through the fog, green cape flying out behind them, cutting the fog where they ran.   
  
"You know, I'm half surprised you let him go," Faris said quietly. "We'll take a long time getting to Bone even without this delay... we could have gone on ahead right away."  
  
"Seth needs this time. He needs to find his reason to fight." Vincent's voice was soft and introspective. "'You can't fight without a reason', Cloud once said. He needs to get it clear to himself precisely what he is fighting for."  
  
'Because... what he said made me think... What do I have to live for, myself? Only a handful of friends I barely speak to... who have troubles of their own and, but for Cloud and Nanaki, are growing older. And myself. And Lucrecia's memory.  
  
'I fight for the Planet. I live for no reason... often I have thought how easy it would be to die. To sin no more. Why do I live?  
  
'I wonder... if I could find my reason.'  
  
-  
  
The air was cold, so Seth had pulled up his hood. He slowed Zion to a walk at the gates, turning to take in everything.  
  
It was all... all the same.... nothing to mark the time that he could see... the fog made everything seem ghostly, but he clearly heard the clatter of Zion's claws on the cobbles, and the squeak of the windmill on the well, and noted the way buildings came more clearly into focus as he approached... it was all here. It had not burned.  
  
Nobody was out at this time. He could understand - who would want to be out in this weather? - but it felt empty...  
  
As he came to his door, he stopped.   
  
His mother would be inside, alone, with no idea where her lost son was or even if he was alive...  
  
"Stay here, Zion," he said softly as he dismounted, knocking on the door. His heart raced. 'Home... I'm home... and Mom's alive...'  
  
The door opened and a sad, tired face peeked out. Her short blond hair was in disarray, her beautiful brown eyes dark with sorrow. She didn't seem to recognize the figure standing in the fog, and her eyes became slightly wary.  
  
"Hello, sir," she said softly. "Who are you? I don't think I know you."  
  
It was heartbreaking.  
  
"Mom - it's me."  
  
She straightened slightly.  
  
"Seth?"  
  
He flung back his hood, stepping forward. "It's me, Mom. I'm here." He smiled and his eyes misted. "I'm really here..."  
  
Lucy's eyes were wide and she slowly brought one hand up to cover her mouth.  
  
"Seth..."  
  
Seth held his arms out, still smiling. Lucy screamed and grabbed him, holding on to her son like she never would again.  
  
"It's you! Oh, Seth! My little boy! You're alive!! Seth! Oh, SETH!!!"  
  
She cupped his face in her hands and kissed his forehead and both his cheeks and drew him inside and shut the door, tears streaming down her face.  
  
"Where have you BEEN?! What HAPPENED to you?! I was worried sick - we thought you might have gone into the mountains on a hike and when you never came back... I couldn't believe you were dead, you've been climbing those mountains since you could walk and you'd *never* let yourself fall and especially not in such good weather... but it was such a long time... I couldn't let myself think it, but..."  
  
"I wasn't in the mountains, Mom." Seth blinked and tears of his own began to fall. "Sit down, and I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything."  
  
-  
  
Lucy was silent for a while, eyes closed and hands clasped in her lap. Seth couldn't look at her after all that he had said. It had hurt to say, most of it. The first encounter with Jenova was hard to talk about even now, and the pain of Mideel was still fresh. It occurred to him, as he spoke, what a thick strange web they had been caught in.   
  
Maybe it wasn't in vain - his flight to Midgar had resulted in the discovery of Jenova, and if Vincent had not known Jenova was still alive, she might well have found a way to call Meteor... and he could not regret meeting Aerin.  
  
"So," Lucy said at last, "you were Sephiroth."  
  
"Mm-hmm." He smirked slightly. "Maybe that was why his portrait looked so much like me. But I don't want to be him. I don't like him. I just want to be Seth."  
  
"You are Seth," she said softly. "You'll never be otherwise, no matter how much you remember. You're *my* little winter wildflower and being Sephiroth is just a part of that." She turned to smile at him, kissing him on the cheek. "I'm very proud of you, Seth. You've been through so much and you've borne it like a hero. I think it's very noble what you're doing, and I'm so very proud of you. I think your father would be, too."  
  
Seth turned to smile at her, and his eyes were lighter than when he'd come in.  
  
"Thank you," he whispered. "I promise I'll be back. I'll be back before the wildflowers bloom. You won't have to lose me again. I love you, Mom."  
  
"I love you too, Seth." She hugged him tightly. "I'm so glad you're alright... keep yourself that way, okay?"  
  
"I will, Mom. I will."  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Aerin lives in Cosmo Canyon, you said?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"You should bring her here sometime. I'd like to meet her." She winked at Seth, who blushed.  
  
"Mom, it's not like that...!!"  
  
-  
  
"We're not far from Cosmo," Zair said at last. "Should we go?"  
  
"Mm," Aerin responded.  
  
Zair studied the recently cleared sky.  
  
"Are you going to stay there?"  
  
Aerin closed her eyes, thinking.  
  
She thought of her mother, kind and loving with the power of life in her hands. She remembered going with her mother to the forests, especially to the place they called the Ancient Forest, where her mother taught her how to deal with the strange carnivorous plants and how to find the most potent healing herbs.   
  
She thought of Nanaki, who taught her about the stars and about the Planet, explaining the passages in Study of Planet Life that she didn't understand. He explained that the Lifestream was the Planet's blood and that her father had returned to it a few days after she was born. He told her how he had battled the illness that her mother could not treat with her strongest herbs, fighting to survive to see his daughter born. She remembered falling asleep while watching the stars, making a pillow of Nanaki's warm side. Nanaki made everyone feel safe and peaceful when he was nearby.  
  
She thought of Cloud, loud and goofy sometimes and sad and serious other times. He would tell her magnificent stories, some of them fanciful, some of them true accounts of the battle for the Planet. The same man who would do ridiculous impressions of Barret Wallace or Yuffie Kisaragi to make little Aerin roll on the ground screaming with laughter would sit her on his knee and hold her and speak solemnly of things Aerin didn't quite understand. She would find herself acting silly just to bring the laughing Cloud back, to make the sad Cloud smile. One such night had resulted in the Promise. She had no male family, he had no family at all. She couldn't be his *daughter* of course, then he'd have to marry Illyra and that was just gross! so it was agreed that he would be her big brother. Her goofy, loving, protective big brother who told her stories and helped her with her staff technique and watched the stars with her and Nanaki. Aerith had begun to fall for Cloud, an idea Aerin now found utterly repulsive. He was her BROTHER for love of the Planet.  
  
"No," she said softly.  
  
Zair turned to face her.  
  
"I'd love to stay," she said softly. "It's my home... I miss Nanaki, and Mom, and Cloud. Nanaki was like a mentor to me, and Cloud's practically my brother. But..."  
  
She looked at the sky and sighed. "If Jenova calls Meteor, it's all over. The Planet doesn't have a way to fight Meteor again. It can't afford to bleed this time. I can't just stay at home thinking there might be a way I can help."  
  
"I understand..."  
  
"So. I *will* go home, but leave the raft here. We need to fight. I won't stay here and leave all the fighting to Seth and Vincent. We have to help."  
  
Zair smiled and stood. "Understood, captain. Get your stuff and let's go."  
  
-  
  
The fog lifted as Seth left Nibelheim once more, and although the sun was setting, he looked as though he had just seen a dawn he'd never thought to see.  
  
-  
  
The day ended, with all involved in the new battle for the Planet feeling a sense of hope, certain that they would live to see the far-off sunrise they were fighting for. 


	9. Chapter 9 Falling Stars

Chapter 9 - Falling Stars  
-  
I got to jump into Seth's head and write from his POV for a while! XD That single scene was so much fun... though I feel really, really, really bad for Vincent. And Zair. Poor boys.  
  
I'm really starting to wish I'd thought to mention Cloud's skin tone back in chapter 2. =_=  
  
Please tell me if Nanaki's decision towards the end of the chapter makes sense. I'm not sure he has good enough reasons. ¬_¬;;;  
  
Chapter title is rather tentative. And this chapter is obscenely long. X_X;; Chapters might be coming out more slowly now. It's summer, so I have time to write, but then, the rest of the story isn't as well developed as the events of chapters 6-8 were when I finally smashed a block and got through, so I need to get things finalized before I can start on the next chapters. Just rest assured the story is still alive and kicking. ^_^;;;  
  
-  
  
The moon was a cold crescent surrounded by stars. Hundreds of tiny little white points were captured in the gently rolling waves of the sea, and as far ahead as one could see, there was no land. The air was chill, the wind calm, and if you didn't think too hard about the ship, you could almost believe that you were standing in space, surrounded on every side by stars. It was enough to take one's breath away.  
  
Vincent completely understood this. And yet, his blood-red eyes glowing faintly in the dark, he could, for a moment, let himself believe.  
  
Believe that it was so easy to stand in redemption among the stars. Believe that there could be hope, believe that it was possible for miracles to happen. He didn't dare close his eyes for then he would realize that he was on a ship at sea and half of the stars were merely reflections. He treasured this moment of illusion and let it claim him utterly.  
  
Freed of the normal iron self-control, Vincent's mind wandered...  
  
-  
  
[It was cold. It was fucking freezing outside, and he couldn't move until the scientists did.  
  
The Turk shot a baleful glance at the mansion. It was probably to be expected - this was their first night working on the project full-time - but they had to *sleep* sometime and so did he.  
  
He wondered if Cari had some sort of deep personal grudge against him. He remembered accepting the neatly typed order sheet from the brown-eyed Turk leader and now half wished he hadn't. This was excruciatingly boring.  
  
"Guard duty?" he remembered saying. "Isn't that a bit low-key for Turks?"  
  
Cari had leaned forward on her desk, brushing a lock of pale blue hair behind her ear. The thin pale scar under her eye had always held a morbid fascination for Vincent, and he did his best not to stare at it now.  
  
"They don't want troops," she'd said. "We don't want to unduly frighten the Nibel people. One man in a business suit will be less threatening and about twice as effective as two men in military uniform."  
  
So he'd taken the orders. And here he was sitting in front of the gates of a rusty old mansion, shivering and wishing the scientists would just get done and come out so he could get some sleep.  
  
'Wouldn't Mom like to see me now,' he thought with a bitter smile. He had known nothing of the life of a Turk when he'd been recruited, and it had given him a stupidly high opinion of himself that they had chosen him. He was just a dirty slums kid, okay with a pistol and doing his best to scrape together a living for himself and his mother - and then Cari of the Turks had approached him on behalf of Shinra.  
  
Octavia Valentine had been beautiful, petite, and proud, a bad combination in the slums. She wasn't strong enough for physical labor and there were no jobs available that she had the skills for. Save one. She considered that one the lowest, the one thing she would never resort to. Selling her body, she felt, would stain her husband's memory and cheapen her son's life. Her mother before her had been from Wutai, and Octavia regarded honor highly; she was forever looking for a good job that would sustain her and her son without a sacrifice of pride.   
  
Vincent laughed, bitterly, into the night air. As far as he knew, she had never resorted to it - the most lucrative female profession in Midgar. But her son had stained the family honor forever even as he saved them both from a death of poverty. He no longer counted his slight Wutaiian blood - he was a Turk, and he was all Midgar.  
  
"Good evening, Valentine."  
  
Vincent didn't allow himself to jump or start. He simply got carefully to his feet, brushing dust off his suit.  
  
"Are you done, then?"  
  
"For tonight." The man who had addressed him, Yamaki Hojo, exchanged a long, cool glance with Vincent, as though attempting to read him and spell him out, a look that was not so much malicious as coldly calculating. Black hair and narrow eyes - Wutai, Vincent thought with an internal smirk. At least *he* has some honor left.  
  
"You won't need to escort us," the taller man said. He was on a level with the Turk. Richard Gast, Vincent thought his name was. He was considerably more pleasant in aspect than Hojo. He actually smiled kindly as he went on; "We did keep you a long time. We'll see ourselves to the inn. It's not like Midgar, after all."  
  
'No,' Vincent thought privately. 'It's nothing like Midgar. For one thing, it's safe.'  
  
"Thank you, Professor," he said. Cold, crisp, businesslike. A voice his mother would have wept at.   
  
"Sleep well, Valentine," Hojo said absently. "Lucrecia. Are you coming or would you rather stay out here and freeze?"  
  
"I think I'll freeze, Yamaki, thank you," Lucrecia Catori replied cordially. "You don't get stars like this in Midgar. I want to look at them for a while."  
  
Hojo snorted derisively and went ahead. Gast smiled at her.  
  
"We'll see you tomorrow then," he said before following Hojo.  
  
Vincent stayed. He didn't know why, but he stayed, watching as the reedy young woman stared raptly up at the stars, each tiny point reflected in her glasses. After a while he too turned up his head. He had never seen stars until he became a Turk. After that first time, the beauty had faded under years of blood...  
  
"They're nice tonight," Vincent said vaguely.  
  
"Mm-hmm," Lucrecia's voice agreed. "They're a lot brighter here because of the clear air. All the smog in Midgar makes it hard to see them."  
  
"Mmm."  
  
"I don't get much occasion to look anyway," the woman continued. "So I look whenever I can. How about you?"  
  
"Huh?" Vincent turned to look at her. "Well... I don't usually get to either. It doesn't matter, though. They're just stars."  
  
"Just stars?" Lucrecia turned to face him, looking incredulous. "Just stars!"  
  
"I really don't see what's so great about them," he said patiently. "They're pretty, yes, but..."  
  
"Our sun is a star," she said softly. "From a scientist's point of view it's incredible. If our sun can support a world with life... what about out there? We're a long way from having the technology to go there and see, but wouldn't it be wonderful? Think about it... what was your name?"  
  
"Vincent Valentine."  
  
"Think about it, Vincent. Somewhere out there, some distant sun has set and the people under that sun are watching the stars and wondering - what else is out there? Somewhere so very far away... and someday we'll go there."  
  
She had been gesturing madly as she made this speech, her thin face bright, her eyes aglow with possibility. Vincent was somewhat overwhelmed.  
  
"You sound very enthusiastic."  
  
Hello, understatement. Lucrecia didn't seem to mind, just smiling and brushing back her hair, gazing back up at the stars.  
  
"It's just that there's so much that *could be*. Most of it we'll never know. But the Jenova Project..." She shivered, whether from the cold or excitement Vincent couldn't tell. "If the Jenova Project succeeds, we'll be able to find out so much from our own Planet. Maybe it knows about other Planets. Maybe it can tell us a way to visit them. Just imagine, standing under a foreign sun..."  
  
Vincent listened, finding that the scientist's eager innocence was slowly drawing him in...  
  
"There's so much to learn, on our Planet and in space... Of course, I won't live to see the great discoveries of the future. But it's the least we can do to open a pathway for the next generation to follow..."  
  
"You really do believe in this, don't you?" The words came out before Vincent was even aware that he had spoken.  
  
"Absolutely." Lucrecia took her eyes away from the stars again and stifled a yawn. "I really should go to bed, shouldn't I? I'll see you tomorrow, Vincent."  
  
"Wait." The Turk stepped forward, holding out his arm. "I'll walk you to the inn."]  
  
-  
  
If Vincent had known what horrors would follow that starlit night, he would have tried, somehow, to pull Lucrecia away from the experiment, to take them all away from Jenova... if he had known, and been able to act upon it, what would have happened? What would the present be like?  
  
Vincent shook himself from his cruel reverie. It would do no good to muse on the past when the future loomed so darkly ahead of him, with Jenova threatening to end it.  
  
Yet...  
  
He closed his eyes, shutting out the beautiful illusion around him. There was something strange awakening in him, a feeling that should have been entirely alien. But it was familiar, achingly, blissfully familiar in ways it shouldn't have been, familiar like coming home.  
  
It made him uneasy, this new-old emotion. He couldn't remember when he had felt it before, and that bothered him immensely. At his age, he told himself, certainly it was natural to expect some memory lapses - but the excuse withered and crumbled under scrutiny. No, his memory was perfectly all right. He could remember most of the past seventy-four years with perfect clarity. No matter how he looked at it, there was a big hole somewhere in his memory, with sharp edges.   
  
He knew that for a gap like that, he would have had to repress something. What, though? He was not a man to shove his weaknesses under the rug and ignore past failings. He would keep them out, hidden from others but always available to his own eye, small weapons in the battle against himself. He had not forgotten his inability to save Lucrecia, nor had he truly forgiven himself for it. He had definitely not repressed it.  
  
Vincent frowned, brow furrowing, silently adding up the years in his mind. It had been forty-seven years since he had entered the coffin... and by all rights, he imagined, the year he'd gone into the coffin should have been the year Sephiroth was born. But no matter how he prodded the figures, one fact that he had somehow managed to overlook until now stared him in the face.  
  
There were five years unaccounted for. He could not remember anything that had happened between Hojo's first experimentation on his body and the thirty years of nightmares.  
  
Five years. What had he been doing for five years? He couldn't have been unconscious. He was quite clear on the fact that he had spent precisely three decades asleep, not one year more or less. It made no sense at all. What had he been doing for five years, why couldn't he remember, and why hadn't he ever noticed this before?!  
  
He was suddenly furious, and could feel the vague shuffling of his other aspects in the back of his mind. They sensed his distress and were unsure how to react. If he had been doing mortal combat with a monster, something real and tangible, any of them would gladly have risen to lend their strength to their charge and master. In this battle of the mind, however, they were weaponless.  
  
The mournful bay of the Galian Beast in the back of his head touched off an avalanche.  
  
["Vincent!! VINCENT!!"  
  
running, running, roaring a response, We will protect you, We will keep you safe, safe with Us forever and We will not let you be harmed...  
  
loud noise and sharp pain, pain--]  
  
Vincent convulsively clutched at his left shoulder, then at his throat, finding nothing and only then realizing that this vivid memory was just that, in the past--  
  
[and shrinking into myself again, and Galian Beast roaring his frustration in the back of my mind... and the eyes of my son...]  
  
"I have no son," Vincent gasped, speaking to no one.  
  
["Vincent...? Izzit... you?"  
  
...my poor son, my little boy, I wanted to free us both but I have fallen... you are none of my blood but I would fight for you tooth and nail... but it doesn't matter... I have lost.  
  
You are his now...]  
  
"No," Vincent hissed.  
  
["Yes..."  
  
Step after labored step even as I could feel the tranquilizers sapping my strength, I still fought for my child... I loved him as a son, though I had no part in his birth... I was his only father.]  
  
"Holy..."  
  
["Sephiroth, it's me... Se... phiroth...."  
  
and i was falling.....  
  
"VINCENT!!......"]  
  
There was a harsh, ragged sound tearing at the air. After the longest few seconds of his life, Vincent finally recognized it as his own breath.   
  
The palm of his hand was sweating against the cool cloth of the glove. His heart pounded fiercely in his chest and he was shaking. The memory, cold as a winter tide, had receded at last, leaving him frozen and shivering on the metaphorical beach.  
  
He let out a small, thin moan and sank helplessly to his knees. He felt Galian Beast in his mind whimpering and snuffling at him like a worried dog, and he pushed it back in agony.   
  
Up until now, he had remembered Sephiroth as a cold man in black, maned in snow, with eyes like blood - the blood of the Planet. A figure of hatred, of death, corruption and his own failure to protect. Sephiroth was a cruel puppet, a marionette made to dance with a sword.  
  
He had not been the Sephiroth that Vincent had known.  
  
Vincent clung to the ship's railing with hand and claw, gritting his teeth against the cry of realization and grief that was rising in his throat. Sephiroth had been his son.  
  
Not his son in the true sense, oh no - how painfully aware he had been of that - but had that mattered? The father by blood had never spared his son a loving glance, any true moment of tenderness, and had entrusted his care to Vincent. Make yourself useful, he'd said, because I can't be working on you 24/7. I have other work.  
  
Other work. That was what Sephiroth was to Hojo; work, a project, an experiment, to be thrown out if it didn't go right. Maybe it would have been better if Sephiroth had been a failure. Hojo would then have abandoned him and left him entirely to the broken Turk, who would have healed himself and the child with a father's love.  
  
It wasn't the blood that mattered. It was the feeling. It was the fact that little Sephiroth, released from whatever injection or test he had been forced to endure that day, would stumble crying into Vincent's arms, and look always to him for comfort. It was the way Vincent's heart ached to see the child in pain, the way he would sing him lullabies and tell him stories of the world outside and promise that someday, someday they'd both be free. It was the bond, made in sorrow and sealed with tears and enfolding arms and the love they freely gave each other. That was what made Vincent a father.  
  
How had he forgotten that? That terrible, wonderful connection, the long confinement, watching Sephiroth grow and begin to walk and to talk, holding the tiny half-human in his arms and loving him with all his own half-human love... He was half a demon and Sephiroth was half an angel, and they were each other's only comfort. Father and son in purgatory, dreaming of heaven. How had Vincent permitted himself to forget that?  
  
'Because you failed.' The words came immediately to mind and he knew they were true. 'Too much was broken. Too much was lost. You could not bear to lose your son and so you forgot him to save yourself.'  
  
'But I remembered Lucrecia.'  
  
'You could not have saved her. She sentenced herself to death and you did not have the power to change that. But you were responsible for Sephiroth. And you failed.'  
  
'He lives again. He had a second chance. He is Seth now.'  
  
'You are leading him to death.'  
  
'I will protect him.'  
  
'Like you protected Sephiroth?'  
  
'No. I will learn from my mistake. I will not lead him foolishly into danger. I will not let Jenova take him. I will not let him die.'  
  
'We will see.'  
  
Vincent lifted his head to the sky. The moon was setting.  
  
-  
  
It felt good to have his notebook back.  
  
The notebook was important to him. Each page was filled with silly little stories, random doodles, and passing thoughts. He would go back and add comments or tiny pictures in the margins until the paper was worn and soft and every inch of usable space was filled. Both sides. This was a new notebook, only about half-finished, with a blissful expanse of empty space ahead that begged to be written in. That was his favorite part of filling the notebook; in the beginning your head was full of thoughts of the last one and it was awkward starting afresh, because you wanted this one to live up to the other and it was always strange. When you got down near the end, you felt frantic and wondered if you'd have enough room, and there was a vague sense of finality and parting that Seth didn't like.  
  
At this point though, you were well into the process and the end wasn't anywhere near. You could write and feel that the empty space could go on forever and you could scribble your soul onto eternity.   
  
He was writing now. He'd started on the page with Vincent's name written neatly at the top, doing his best to pen out the story of everything that had happened to him since Midgar. It seemed fantastic and unbelievable as he wrote it, an incredible work of imagination. If he hadn't lived it, he'd have doubted it himself.  
  
-I'm going to be a hero of the Planet,- he wrote incredulously as the story wound down. -This is really going to happen, I am going to fight Jenova.-  
  
-Can we beat her, though? I mean, she's really powerful. She was already supposed to be dead; what's keeping her alive? What if she just comes back again after we kill her?-  
  
Seth absently chewed the end of the pencil he'd borrowed from Faris, and then sighed, beginning to write again.  
  
-We have to try.-  
  
-I'm Sephiroth. That's still so hard to think about. I'm Sephiroth. Psycho man who torched the old Nibelheim (mine's okay! it's still there! I didn't burn it after all! wooo!) and tried to blow up the Planet. That's one hell of a legacy to inherit, you know? Even the Planet doesn't like me!-  
  
-I really, really don't want to be like Sephiroth. A lot of what he did wasn't even his fault, Jenova made him do it, but that doesn't make the things he did any better. Vincent told me to kill him if Jenova took him over. Maybe I'll ask him to shoot me if I start becoming like Sephiroth.-  
  
-Kill Vincent. Gods. I hope I never have to. I really do.-  
  
-Vincent's so... I cannot figure this man out. Right when I think he's an utter bastard he does something else that doesn't fit with that. Sometimes he really, really reminds me so much of Dad it's scary. I don't remember Dad that much, I was like five when he died, but sometimes Vincent just... *feels* like Dad did.  
  
-And why didn't he tell me about Nibelheim? (I'm not mad, honest. Too happy to be mad. Mom's alive!) How is it he can be so cold one minute and then turn around and do something like watch over me all night when I'm sick? What's his deal, anyway? Vincent Valentine - who the fuck are you? Thank Odin for private notebooks, Mom would throw a fit if she read that.-  
  
-Nibelheim's still there. That's a really great thing to think about. I've been carrying this guilt around for ages and now it turns out I don't have anything to be guilty about. (Nothing I did in this life anyway.) I can go home when this is all over, and sleep in my own bed and talk to my mom and climb the mountains and actually see the town and not a bunch of cinders. Woo! I love my town. I love the mountains. Midgar rules but I don't know if I'd be happy there. I'm a complete country hick. Say it loud, say it proud. Boondocks kids unite!-  
  
Seth turned the page and stared at the next. He wanted to write more, he truly would have liked to just stay all night and write his hand off, but after that his mind was blank. He could think of a lot of stuff, but nothing he wouldn't just be repeating if he wrote it down.  
  
A thought struck him.  
  
-Zair better take good care of Aerin or I'll punch his lights out next time I see him.-  
  
-Not that that's really anything to worry about. He's Zax and he knows it. He's always remembered it, he told me. I can't imagine spending my entire life knowing I was somebody else. That's worse than remembering bits and pieces later in life. You grow up in your own shadow.-  
  
-But anyway. Zax loved Aerith A LOT. I kind of remember that Zax was the kind of guy you'd expect to be a total flirt (I think I once thought he was trying to seduce ME) but he wasn't. He found one girl and suddenly all other romantic prospects ceased to exist. He was In Love with her. And he remembered that too. And Aerin's Aerith, so...-  
  
-Crap. Not only do I feel guilty about Aerith and Zax (neither of them would have died if not for me) but I think I'm a little jealous too. Crap again. I've got a crush on a girl who was literally born to kill me and is already spoken for anyway. GODS do I know how to pick 'em.-  
  
-Masamune thinks this is funny. Screw you, sword.-  
  
-Okay, okay. I've really gotta actually sleep tonight or I'll face the Wrath of Vincent in the morning, or barring that, the Wrath of Faris. Neither one is terribly appealing. Maybe the world will make more sense in the morning.-  
  
He put the pencil away and shut his notebook, taking a moment to stare at the cover with a sort of smile before setting it aside, too.  
  
A flash of fiery red caught his eye and he glanced over at it. It was Aerin's charm, tied to Masamune's hilt. The Phoenix down seemed almost to glow in the darkness.  
  
Seth got to his feet and extended one pale hand to retrieve the longsword from where it was propped against the wall. His actions were strange, impulsive, comforting - the feather felt warm where it was pressed to his lips.   
  
Somewhere in the back of his head, Masamune was doing the mental equivalent of raising an eyebrow. Seth really didn't care, just withdrawing calmly and putting the sword back.  
  
/You are a sentimental fool,/ Masamune said condescendingly as Seth curled back into his covers. /That action was meaningless./  
  
'Not for me.'  
  
-  
  
A soft wind blew in over Bone Village, stirring the boughs of the forest beyond. The Sleeping Forest was a unique magical phenomenon. Some historians held, from the fragmented accounts, that it was not a natural occurrence, but rather had been created by the Cetra in an attempt to imprison the Crisis from the Sky. It hadn't worked, but it had apparently confused and delayed the Crisis long enough for it to be contained elsewhere.   
  
Unlike a lot of the things the historians said about the Cetra, that was absolutely true. Jenova was presently reflecting on that very fact with some annoyance.  
  
As far as she could tell, the Black Materia had surfaced somewhere in that forest. She could see an earthquake crack leading in between the trees, filled with Lifestream. It wasn't very large, but it would have sufficed.  
  
Common sense would have said to follow the crack into the forest and not stray from it until she found the Materia. The trouble was, common sense didn't apply to these trees. Jenova knew with absolute certainty that no matter what guide she used, she would get lost in there. She could have Ariadne's enchanted string and still not find her way out. She couldn't even just fly out. She'd tried that last time and found herself unable to get off the ground.  
  
Even if she did find the Materia, there was another property of the forest that had either never been recorded or never found its way into the hands of humans, which was that the Sleeping Forest also had a natural choking effect on magic. She couldn't cast anything in there. And again, she would be hopelessly lost and unable to get out. The only reason she'd gotten out the first time was because some foolhardy Cetra child had wandered in and they'd had to wake the forest up to get the kid out. Jenova had also been allowed to escape, but the Cetra had been ready for her and had attacked her in full force the minute they got close enough. There hadn't been many left by that time, but damn it, there was only one of Jenova and every single damn Cetra had been really, really pissed. Not good odds.  
  
Jenova shook her head. This was not helping her get her Materia back.  
  
Natural calamities could probably destroy the forest, she thought with little hope. If she jumped in the Lifestream, her presence would cause a quake and maybe, if she was lucky, that would flatten the place. But even if it worked, that would attract entirely too much attention. So would burning the damn thing down.  
  
There was only one way she knew to awaken the forest - play a Lunar Harp. And that was completely useless information to Jenova, because she had not the slightest clue where to find one.  
  
She didn't even know if there were any Lunar Harps left in any state to be used. Aerith had had one, but gods knew where it was now. Cloud had managed to get one dug up in Bone...  
  
Aha. If her little blonde puppet had managed to get one, maybe she could too. And maybe Professor Hojo would pop out of the Lifestream and do a jig, but there was a possibility, wasn't there? Who knew, after all, how many of those harps had been buried in the strata of ages - and if she took an unthreatening human form and gave them a story about wanting to research something or other...  
  
It was worth a shot, damn it.  
  
-  
  
"The Candle!"  
  
Aerin's cry of delight was warming to Zair. Aerith's heritage had lay in the ice, but Aerin was very much a child of the desert fire. He smiled vaguely, easily keeping pace with Aerin and Gypsum. Even with the black going at a fair run, his Strife was larger and faster and was actually going at something of a trot and still keeping pace with Aerin's bird.  
  
Strife...  
  
He sighed, his smile melting away. Cloud lived here in Cosmo Canyon.  
  
He remembered the restless months spent wandering the Planet, haunting Cloud and Aerith. They'd never known he was there, ever. It had been unspeakably frustrating, and he had on more than one occasion wanted to simply break down and weep. He remembered Gongaga - broken to shards, even worse than Hojo had been cruel enough to tell him, the people all trapped in mourning... his parents, lamenting their absentee son ('it wasn't my fault! I was in a tube for five years and then I DIED! I meant to visit, really! Really and truly!')... Aerith, quietly and painfully confiding to Cloud that her boyfriend from SOLDIER, name of Zax, had abandoned her and had probably found some other girl he liked better ('never ever EVER, my poor little flower girl, I always loved you, I never wanted to leave you!')... He had hoped, in the moment she was split on Sephiroth's blade, that they might be reunited... but she died properly, and returned to the Planet, and he never got to speak to her. He had died in guilt and shame and a desperation to see Cloud safe and make things right, and had not been able to rest.  
  
He remembered Cloud's crippling identity crisis, remembered wanting to take the man by the shoulders and shake him until he stopped begging that bastard Hojo for a number, and not being able to... only being able to watch as the man he'd failed to kill and the man he'd failed to protect circled slowly in a predator's dance. He wanted to say it killed him to watch these two past friends transformed beyond any semblance of the men he'd known, hating each other the way they did, except he was already dead.  
  
What would he SAY to Cloud? He felt responsible for Cloud's massive identity problems. They'd gotten sorted out, and Zair was glad for that, but what could he say?  
  
"I'm sorry, Cloud, for dying right in front of you and giving you serious schizophrenia and not being able to help you and not being able to kill Sephiroth or stop the burning of your hometown and by the way I sunk the Gelnika too."  
  
"Hi, Cloud! It's me, Zax! You know, your best friend who died right in front of you and gave you serious schizophrenia and..."  
  
"Cloud, is everything okay with you? I've kinda been dead and then I got reincarnated in Mideel sixteen years ago and stuff, and I'm sorry for dying right in front of you and..."  
  
'No, no, I don't have a fixation on a particular event, not at all,' Zair thought sarcastically.  
  
His trepidation turned to full-out panic as Aerin dismounted and led Gypsum up the steps to what Zair could now see was a stable carved into the cliff. He swung himself off Strife's back and did the same, and every single step felt like it was chipping at his nerves.  
  
Cloud was here. Not the abstract memory of sixteen years in a quiet forest town, but a blazing reality that Zair didn't know if he could face. Cloud was alive here, and Aerin was probably going to go talk to him and then she'd want to introduce him to Zair and oh gods he couldn't breathe....  
  
"Zair?"  
  
Dark desert arms wrapped around his shoulders as Zair hyperventilated right there outside the stables, convulsively clutching at Strife's reins, slowly going hysterical. He was shaking.  
  
"I can't... I can't..."  
  
"Zair, what's wrong?" Aerin's voice was worried. "Zair?"  
  
"Can't do it.... I can't... he's here he's fucking REAL he's here.... I can't... I can't... can't face him.... oh gods..."  
  
He turned and clung to Aerin with a small cry, trembling like a leaf, fingers digging into his shoulders as the healer held him, rubbing his back gently and stroking his thick black hair. Zair's voice was a frantic whisper, edged with hysteria and the desperate keening sound of one holding back sobs.  
  
"I can't... can't do this... I can't... I can't...."  
  
"Shhh - it's okay," Aerin whispered, not stopping her soothing caress. "It's okay. It's okay. You don't have to talk to him. Don't worry; you won't have to talk to him until you're ready."  
  
Zair buried his face in her shoulder, still whispering "I can't" over and over. Aerin didn't let go, and just kept murmuring words of comfort to him. Gradually, the trembling lessened and Zair began to relax.  
  
"He doesn't even have to know about you until you're ready," Aerin said gently. "I won't tell him about you if you don't want me to."  
  
"Thanks," Zair said weakly, letting out a shaky sigh. "I'll talk to him tonight. I promise I will. Just not now... just give me time. Just a little time..."  
  
Aerin nodded softly and kissed his cheek. "Will you be okay waiting here for a while? I have a lot of catching up to do with him and Mom and Nanaki."  
  
"I'll be fine," he said, pulling himself slowly, almost reluctantly, from her embrace to look her in the eye. He managed a grin that felt a little like the old Zax grin. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Now go home, get away, shoo." He made a little shooing motion with his hand.  
  
Aerin laughed brightly, the same sound that Zax had once felt that he could live off of in place of food and air as long as it came from Aerith.  
  
She made one last remark, as she turned to leave: "You're still just like Zax."  
  
He watched her as she walked away, long dark hair swinging loose behind her and many-colored skirt flaring around her legs. He let out a thin sigh and slid down the wall, staring up at the stars.  
  
"And you're still just like Aerith," he whispered to the sky.  
  
-  
  
"Honestly, Cloud, I know you have more sense than this."  
  
"Sorry, Illyra," Cloud said sheepishly.  
  
While working, Illyra was the ultimate mom. No patient was safe from a heavy dose of motherly care - or in Cloud's case, a sharp motherly reproof.  
  
"You knew there was a torch there," she continued firmly, rubbing a cool salve into Cloud's back. The sun-bronzed skin was burned an unpleasant red over his left shoulder and part of his right. Cloud didn't know which had been more humiliating - sustaining the injury or explaining it to Illyra.  
  
"I told you, I was distracted," he said wearily. "And I lost my balance turning around. Ow!"  
  
"It's still your own fault," she said primly, putting away the salve. "You should have been paying attention to where you were going. There, that should do it. The pain ought to be gone in a few minutes; I'll bring you a spare shirt to replace the burnt one. And I hope you've learned your lesson."  
  
"Yes, mother," he said wearily.   
  
Illyra huffed slightly and rose to her feet, bustling out of the treatment room. Cloud sighed and hung his head. The dull throbbing pain of the burn had been soothed somewhat already, but it still lingered to remind him of his careless mistake.  
  
And if he caught Nanaki snickering at him again for this burn, so help him he was going to throttle the damn cat.  
  
As though summoned by the mere thought of his name, Nanaki poked his head into the room, a grin plastered all over his canine face. Cloud met the look sourly.  
  
"How is it?" Nanaki asked, and Cloud didn't think he was even trying to hide his amusement.  
  
"Better. Illyra's good at what she does." Again as though summoned, Illyra appeared and tossed a shirt at him. Cloud caught it and stared. "Geez, what is this? I just think someone's name and they show up. Does this have something to do with Master Summon?"  
  
"That or excellent timing," Illyra said lightly.  
  
"Great. I guess there's no sense pushing my luck and seeing if Aerin will turn up if I mention her," he said gloomily, pulling on the shirt. He winced as it slid across his burn, but if Illyra's salve was anywhere near up to her usual quality, he wouldn't even feel it pretty soon.  
  
"Miz healer! Miz healer!"  
  
Nanaki scooted out of the way of an excited little boy who had, by his shortness of breath, evidently just run up the steps to reach Illyra's home.  
  
"Why aren't you in bed?" The Force Of Motherhood That Was Illyra was a daunting thing to have staring at you with all the power of the stern parental look, but the kid shrugged it off.  
  
"I was watching stars," he replied, then his face broke into a wide smile. "Guess what, miz healer? Aerin's home!"  
  
Illyra's authoritative manner melted away at once. Her eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth as she took in a long slow breath. Suddenly she bolted, running past the boy and dashing down the steps with the eager child following her happily. Left alone and still in shock, Nanaki and Cloud stared after her for a moment in disbelief and then turned to face each other.  
  
Cloud, having already been humiliated once that night, and presently a bit unbalanced mentally by this sudden happening, said the first, stupid, thing that came to mind.  
  
"I didn't do it!"  
  
-  
  
Home.  
  
There was a singular feeling about Cosmo Canyon. Aerin remembered Nanaki telling her, when she was younger, that Cosmo Canyon was close to the Planet, and was one of the places where the Planet's power was strongest. As a result, he said, it naturally felt warm and welcoming.  
  
It was home.  
  
It was one thing to see the Candle burning from afar - it was another to actually be here inside the gates, to hear the roar of the holy flame, to have the worn Cosmo stone back beneath her feet and know that she was home, home, home...  
  
She sank to her knees, her eyes filling with tears, crying out praises in Cosmo to the Planet and to Phoenix for bringing her back to the canyon. She barely heard her mother's voice as the woman came running down the stairs to meet her, only returned the desperate embrace, mother and daughter kneeling together on the warm stone and crying and holding each other as though they would never let go.  
  
In that moment, Aerin felt a fierce love for her home and her family blazing in her as bright as the Candle, and she never wanted to leave again.  
  
-  
  
"We've been worried sick about you, Aerin!"  
  
"I'm sorry..."  
  
Aerin knew as she said it that 'sorry' was not going to be quite enough.  
  
Illyra took a long, deep breath and took Aerin's hands in her own. "Tell me, Aerin. What 'terrible things' did you think were going to happen?"  
  
"I didn't know." Aerin shook her head slowly. "I just knew I had to follow Seth."  
  
They were sitting in the common room of Illyra's home. The patients' rooms were farther into the burrow, but even here the carved stone dwelling smelled of herbs and spices. Cloud was seated on an old handcrafted sofa beside the two women, and Nanaki was lying on the rug at Cloud's feet, flaming tail twitching. The initial greetings had been exchanged and Aerin now found herself with an awful lot to explain.  
  
"You could have taken Cloud or Nanaki with you," Illyra fretted.   
  
"I was with Seth and Vincent, Mom," Aerin sighed.   
  
"If you had any idea the worry you caused me--"  
  
"Illyra," Cloud said finally, holding up a hand, "lay off the kid, okay? She's back and she's fine, not a scratch on her. I guess you and Vincent got Seth to Midgar okay, then?"  
  
Aerin fidgeted, looking nervously up at the ceiling. "Ummm... not... really..."  
  
"Something happened!" Illyra grabbed Aerin's arms. "I knew it! What happened, Aerin?"  
  
The girl lowered her head in resignation. "We never got to Midgar. Before we got there... um... we met Jenova."  
  
"Jenova?!" Cloud and Nanaki instantly shot to standing positions, Nanaki's tail-fire flaring up abruptly. Aerin shrank back reflexively, blushing and nodding.  
  
"We got separated from Seth... when we caught up to him, Jenova was there," she murmured. "Vincent shot at her but he missed and she got away... so we had to go looking for her. Vincent wasn't going to just let her get away, and he couldn't leave us, so..."  
  
"How did you get back here, then?" Cloud demanded. "Wait, better yet - how is Jenova still alive?!"  
  
Aerin took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I don't know that much, but I can tell you... Holy is broken. Without Holy, the Planet couldn't stop her - she just gathered strength and recovered. She's looking for the Black Materia now. She wants to call Meteor."  
  
Cloud sank slowly back into the chair, resting his head in his hands.  
  
"Well, fuck," he said finally. Illyra didn't even snap at him for it.  
  
"Vincent and Seth are going after her to fight her," Aerin continued softly. "And -- so am I."  
  
"You are NOT!" Illyra rose stiffly to her feet. "I will NOT have you throwing yourself into that kind of danger! Cloud and Nanaki can--"  
  
"Hold it!" Cloud raised his hand. "Look, Illyra... I know about Jenova. I know she's the reason Sephiroth lost his mind, and the reason *I* nearly did too. I have her cells in me. If she has enough strength to be walking around on her own and looking for the Black Materia, then I can't safely go anywhere near her. I can't guarantee she won't take me again."  
  
The gravity of Cloud's voice did absolutely nothing to diminish Illyra's just wrath. "Then Nanaki can go! Aerin will NOT fight that monster!"  
  
"Mom! I was BORN to fight Jenova!!"  
  
Illyra turned, and would have argued further, had she not seen the look in Aerin's eyes. There was a depth there, a great age - and a power before which even Illyra withered.  
  
"What do you mean?" Nanaki's gruff voice interjected at last.  
  
Aerin slumped a little, but the fire did not go out of her. "I am the Planet's last weapon," she whispered. "I was a Cetra. The Planet sent my soul out of the Lifestream to create me. It can't make another Weapon. It can't afford to bleed again, the way it did to stop the last Meteor. And it can't survive another one. I have to fight Jenova. I can't let another Meteor fall."  
  
Illyra opened and closed her mouth several times, her deep brown eyes shining with tears. At last, she spoke.  
  
"Isn't there another way?"  
  
She turned desperately to Nanaki and Cloud.  
  
"Any other way?"  
  
"Mom..."  
  
"No!" Illyra spun to face her daughter, grasping her arms with an anguished expression. "I don't want you to fight her! I don't want you going out to die! You just came back - I was so afraid for you - Aerin, don't go! I don't want to lose you too!!"  
  
The healer, the mother, the ultimate authority of the canyon, was reduced to desperate sobs. Aerin gently put her hands on Illyra's shoulders, blinking back tears of her own.  
  
"Mom... it's not my choice to make any more."  
  
Nanaki and Cloud exchanged uncomfortable glances as Illyra slowly raised her head. Neither one was entirely sure he belonged here.  
  
"Even if the Planet wasn't counting on me to fight... I wouldn't stay here. I want to stay - oh holy Phoenix, I do - but I can't. I have to fight Jenova. I have to beat her, for the Planet's sake... for everyone."  
  
Aerin managed a slightly unsteady smile.  
  
"I'll come back, Mom. When I've defeated Jenova, I'll come back home. I promise."  
  
The look in Illyra's eyes did not need words, and Aerin would not let that fear be realized with words.  
  
"I *will* come back."  
  
-  
  
The night was growing cold.  
  
His sword was of a strange design; short, heavy, and lacking a true blade. More a club than a sword, really, but no less deadly. It took trained hands to make the weapon effective, and Zair had had the experience of two lifetimes in swordplay. It lacked the heft and slash of the Buster Sword he'd gotten used to, but there were few enough of those...  
  
This was close enough.   
  
The Hardedge was Gongaga's signature weapon; the small forest town was the only place on the Planet where the bladeless sword was made, and it was for that reason that Zair had chosen it. It was a desperate link, he knew - he held onto the Hardedge as a drowning man would clutch at a straw. Zax had been born in Gongaga, and Zair hoped to keep that identity alive with this small thing.  
  
Wisps of spiky black hair dangled in Zair's face as he absently polished the chilled metal. The action was mindless, more to keep himself from thinking than out of any real need to clean the weapon.   
  
It was getting late and Zair knew that soon he would have to go into town, if for no other reason than to ask a room for the night. But then, he knew - absolutely knew - that he would have to face Cloud.  
  
'I failed him, completely. I died at the *worst* possible time; at least he got to Midgar okay, but the identity problems I left him nearly killed the poor kid! How can I just mosey back into his life and say "Hi, Cloud - really sorry about dying in front of you and all, but how 'bout we be friends again?" Dear gods. I wouldn't be surprised if he hated me.'  
  
He tilted the Hardedge and stared at the smooth, flat surface. The blurry, starlit face of a child stared back.  
  
'My eyes should be glowing... chin should be stronger... I should have a scar, right here...'  
  
'He won't even recognize me.'  
  
That thought, surprisingly, was worse than the fear of facing Cloud's hatred.  
  
Zair *wanted* Cloud to recognize him. He wanted Cloud to look at him and know exactly who he was, he wanted Cloud to see the man, the SOLDIER, instead of the boy, the frustratingly small and weak boy.   
  
'I'd rather you hate Zax, than forget him... because if you forget him, he'll be nothing more than my memory...'  
  
He missed the height, the strength, the SOLDIER's build, the thick black mane (his hair now was too thin, too glossy), the scar on his jaw and the blue burn of his eyes... His hands looked pitifully small and impotent as he stared down at them. Small, sixteen, nothing but Zair.   
  
'I was Zax. I *am* Zax. I will *be* Zax.'  
  
His hand was not shaking, he told himself, as it gripped the Hardedge's hilt. His heart did not tremble in fear at the thought of Cloud shattering his shell of Zax. There were, absolutely, no tears running down his face.  
  
He would talk to Cloud. And he would not be afraid.  
  
-  
  
"You should be asleep, you know."  
  
Aerin closed her eyes, smiling at the sound of that gentle voice. It wasn't even a reprimand, just a statement of fact, spoken in a tone that was completely understanding.  
  
"I know."  
  
The man she called 'brother' was beside her in a moment, crossing the small plateau with silent steps. A strong, callused hand rested on her shoulder.  
  
"You used to give your mother heart attacks up here."  
  
Aerin turned to look up at Cloud. His Mako-blue eyes were fixed on some distant point beyond the horizon.  
  
"Even before you started training. You loved to get right up to the edge... see how far you could go..." he grinned, shaking his head and closing his eyes. "You're so much different from her. She was used to danger, but that didn't mean she went *looking* for it..."  
  
"You're talking about... Aerith, right?"  
  
"I always thought, if your eyes were just a little bit darker, your skin a bit lighter... you'd look just like her. It was hard, at first. I thought I was fixating on her death... seeing her face where I shouldn't be... but I only ever saw her in you."  
  
Aerin swallowed and looked down. She didn't like where this conversation was going.  
  
"Cloud..."  
  
"Sorry... I was just kind of thinking out loud." Cloud smiled sideways, ruffling Aerin's hair.   
  
Aerin leaned against him, looking up at the stars. "Cloud... I don't want you to think of me as Aerith."  
  
"You think I do?"  
  
She startled, and Cloud laughed, pulling her into a one-armed hug.  
  
"Come on, kid... I watched you grow up. Even if you were Aerith... you're my litle sister now and I promise that won't ever change."  
  
Aerin blinked, then smiled and closed her eyes, resting her head against Cloud's shoulder. "I'm glad."  
  
For a moment, neither of them said anything. It was enough just for them to be beside each other.   
  
'If I lose... this will all be gone.'  
  
Aerin looked up at the stars, unconsciously pressing closer to Cloud.  
  
'There won't be anyone left to look at the stars... the Candle will go out forever...'  
  
She shook her head fiercely, as though trying to dislodge those images and feelings.  
  
Cloud's voice, low and smooth, broke her thoughts.  
  
"Are you afraid?"  
  
"...Yes." Aerin took a handful of his shirt, rubbing her fingers over the cloth. "I'm not even sure what the Planet wants me to do... how I'm supposed to do it..."  
  
"The Planet has faith in you," Cloud said simply. "So do I."  
  
Aerin closed her eyes.  
  
"Thank you..."  
  
"It's just the truth. Now get to bed, you can't fight Jenova if you're falling asleep on your feet."  
  
His smile was warm, gently teasing, filled with the kind of love he'd never have been able to give Aerith. Aerin smiled back, glad for the affirmation, glad to know that even now, nothing would change between her and Cloud. She didn't think she could stand to have Cloud look at her and see a woman from the past.  
  
"Okay, okay. Good night, Cloud."  
  
"Good night, Aerin."  
  
-  
  
It was now or never. Either he walked through those gates right now, or he was going to spend the night with the chocobos.  
  
The night air felt sharp and cold as he breathed it in, taking that first step to confront his past.  
  
-  
  
"How is she?"  
  
Cloud sighed and smiled at his four-legged comrade.  
  
"Still awake. Can't blame her, honestly, I don't think I'll be able to sleep either. She's afraid, but she's willing to do it. She's a brave girl." Cloud's voice was full of admiration and pride on those last words.  
  
"She always was," Nanaki said softly.  
  
Cloud started walking, and Nanaki fell easily into step behind him. Theirs was the rhythm of old, old friends, who can communicate as well with a shrug or a silence or meaningful glance as they can with words.  
  
"How's Illyra?" Cloud asked at last.  
  
"Better." Nanaki shook his head, headdress jangling. "She is still opposed to the idea, but she will allow Aerin to follow this path."  
  
"You *could* go with her," Cloud offered. "It's not safe for me, but you could go."  
  
Nanaki made a small woofing noise. "I cannot."  
  
"Why not?" Cloud reached up to trail his fingers against the red stone wall as they turned down another staircase.  
  
"If Jenova decides that she needs a pawn, she will know *exactly* where to look."  
  
Cloud stopped dead. Nanaki stopped a step or two in front of him, glancing back at him meaningfully with one golden eye.  
  
"Aerin is brave, and strong. I feel it might be better if I stayed here with you - to protect you, Master Summon, and the four Huge Materia if need be. If I am absent, and the Candle goes out again, or you..." Nanaki shook his head and looked forward, away from Cloud. "I *want* to go with her. But I feel it is not my place. Perhaps it is a fear of my own. Perhaps it is the Planet's wisdom. Who knows?" He looked up. "Whichever it may be, I do not feel my presence would help her significantly. This may be her time of testing."  
  
"The Planet has faith in her," Cloud agreed softly. "She's its last hope. I *would* like to think the Planet's last hope can take care of herself."  
  
"As would I." Nanaki smirked. "Furthermore, she is not alone."  
  
"What?" Cloud had just started making his way down the stairs again, and stopped at those words.  
  
Seemingly unconcerned, Nanaki twitched his tail and began to ramble down the stairs again. Cloud hurriedly followed.  
  
"What do you mean, she's not alone?"  
  
"I smelled someone else on her," Nanaki said, sounding vaguely embarrassed. "A boy. Since she did not tell us about him, I did not want to embarrass her by asking..."  
  
"Oh, great. And that's a reason *not* to go with her?" Cloud groaned. "'Time of testing' or not, she's almost sixteen, Nanaki! Hello? Rabid teenage hormones?! When *I* was her age..."  
  
Nanaki laid back his ears, bowing his head a bit as they walked, emerging into fresh night air. "You know Aerin is a very responsible girl," he muttered a bit defensively.   
  
"Nanaki! With what she's going through right now...! I wouldn't be surprised if she just got really stressed out one day, and the boy offered, and she just...! I know she's responsible, but people act different under stress..."  
  
"You sound like a protective father," Nanaki chided. "I truly don't think she... by the Planet. That's him."  
  
"Huh?" Cloud's voice sounded hopelessly lost and confused.  
  
"I smell him on the wind," Nanaki explained, lifting his head and sniffing, then glancing around. "I think that's him... by the Candle."  
  
-  
  
He could see why Aerin loved the flame so much.  
  
For a fire that size, it put out a remarkably small amount of heat - Zair would have expected to be blasted with hot air from sitting so close to it, but it seemed remarkably tame. And yet the small warmth it gave off warmed him completely, fighting off the chill night. It seemed alive. Zair wondered, if he reached out and touched the flame, if it would even stoop to burn him, or just flow between his fingers like warm silk.  
  
"Hello, visitor."  
  
Zair jumped and turned around, freezing when he saw just who was addressing him. The one who had spoken he recognized as Nanaki, and just beside him, was....  
  
Cloud seemed so *tall* now, startlingly so, and there was a strength in his arms that had not been there even during the Meteor Crisis. Years in the Canyon had tanned him until, but for his fair hair, he looked as though he was a native. He wore Canyon-style clothing now, straight down to a white headband...  
  
And he looked extremely displeased.  
  
The jangle of beads alerted him to the fact that Nanaki was still there, and he turned quickly to face the wise-eyed beast, who was regarding him with tilted head.  
  
"Uh. Hi."  
  
"You're traveling with Aerin, right?"  
  
Nanaki turned to give the swordsman a sour look. "Cloud, be polite."  
  
"Yeah, I am," Zair interrupted. He swallowed. "She didn't tell you about me, did she..?" The beginnings of fear and betrayal were beginning to creep across his face. Nanaki noted with some confusion that the boy was again staring at Cloud.  
  
"She did not," Nanaki said, and watched the boy's face clear immediately. "Your scent is on her."  
  
"Ah..." Zair rubbed the back of his head. "I guess close travel does that. Heh."  
  
"Was there a reason she didn't tell us?" Cloud said coldly. "What do you have to hide?"  
  
"Cloud!" Nanaki snapped irritably as the boy paled. "You're frightening him half to death!" To Zair, he shook his head and rolled his eye. "My apologies. Cloud is rather overreacting, I think. He's afraid to let you and Aerin travel together, lest you indulge your 'rabid teenage hormones'." Nanaki's voice became heavily sarcastic towards the end.  
  
Zair gaped for a moment, then flushed, standing up to glare at Cloud. "Do you honestly think I...?! You of *all* people, Cloud...! You should KNOW I would never do that to a woman I wasn't MARRIED to!!"  
  
Cloud's icy expression slowly melted and changed, became a strange expression of disbelief and wonder and confusion. "...And how would I know that?" he asked, honestly curious, without a touch of hurtful edge to the question. "I don't know you..."  
  
"Yes you do!" Zair had hoped for a slower, easier revelation, but Cloud's assumption had stung him deeply. He savagely ripped out his ponytail holder, leaving his long hair free to do as it would, and then tore off his leather jacket, revealing the sleeveless blue turtleneck beneath. "You KNOW me! Picture me a bit bigger, Cloud! More muscles, squarer chin, glowing eyes, that scar you were always curious about... picture me with the *Buster Sword*, Cloud! Picture me in SOLDIER, fighting alongside Sephiroth! *NOW DO YOU REMEMBER ME?!*"  
  
The look on Cloud's face said he did.  
  
Seeing Cloud's shock, Zair's face softened and he calmed. "...I didn't want her to tell you about me because I didn't think... I could face you after all that happened. It's my fault... your identity problems... everything that went wrong with you... I could have stopped..."  
  
"Zax, no," Cloud whispered, stepping forward, eyes wide and voice soft and thin with wonder and horror. "It wasn't... you *saved* me, Zax, I'd be *dead* if you hadn't..."  
  
"I should have lived," Zair choked, his voice thick with guilt. "If I'd lived - Aerith wouldn't have thought I abandoned her... you'd have known who you *were*... I could have helped you so much more..."  
  
"No, Zax, don't do this to yourself..." Cloud's voice had a strange little upturned edge to it, as though he were perhaps fighting off tears. He hung his head. "I... should be the one apologizing... I stole your identity... I wasn't strong enough to handle it when you died... so I chose the reality that... hurt me least..."  
  
"Cloud, kid, come on," Zair urged. "*Nobody* could have survived that in one piece. You were barely conscious when I died... you did a hell of a lot better than a lot of other people would. Someone else might have just rolled over and died right there, but you, you managed to drag yourself to Midgar... you made yourself a life, even though you were practically comatose and you'd just watched your best friend die... hell, you didn't steal my life, kid, you just borrowed it for a while." Zair smiled gently and shook his head, reaching out to Cloud.  
  
For the first time in all the years Nanaki had known the man, Cloud was on the verge of crying, silent tears running down his cheeks. He carefully bowed out, backing away from the two, letting them have their time. Frankly, he was relieved - Cloud had several years of identity issues to work out still, and this seemed to be a major step in that general direction. Nanaki figured it would be best to make himself scarce until the moment was over.  
  
He cast one last curious glance behind him as he walked away, and saw that Cloud had broken down in Zair's arms. Nanaki's sensitive ears picked up a faint sob from Cloud, and Zair's gentle voice reassuring the man.  
  
Nanaki shook his head and padded out of earshot.  
  
-  
  
Aerin dreamed...  
  
She was alone, in a dark night... the only star shining in the darkness... striving to give her small light to the entire world... flickering, growing weak..  
  
{Don't be afraid.}  
  
Fiery wings with rainbow feathers wrapped around her, enfolding her in what felt like a motherly embrace. And she could feel, inexplicably, the strength seeping into her bones, her flesh, her very blood from the stranger's embrace.  
  
'Who are you?'  
  
{You know me.} The teasing voice had the sound of starsong and fire, a high trilling exultation of life in all its faces. It reminded her of the Candle. {I am the Firebird. I am your patron spirit - an esper, your kind once called me. I burn away the old and give birth to the new. Do you know me now?}  
  
Aerin raised her hand slowly and it met feathers and an angled beak. Tentatively, she drew her hand down along the grain of the feathers, down the warm neck. '....Phoenix.'  
  
The bird sounded a thin, high note, confirmation and approval.  
  
'Why are you here with me?'  
  
{You didn't honestly believe I'd let you battle the Crisis without help, did you?}  
  
'What?'  
  
Even as she questioned, she could feel Phoenix's presence beginning to fade away - at first she panicked, but then an odd calm came over her, as she suddenly understood.  
  
'...You're with me.'  
  
She was still the only star in the sky, but now she had the strength to shine.  
  
'....always.'  
- 


	10. Chapter 10 The Final Countdown

Chapter 10 - The Final Countdown  
-  
A/N: Masamune char dev, baby.  
  
I hope Jenova's alias here isn't *too* pretentiously symbolic. And I hope the scene that explains the espers is actually worth reading. Actually, I hope the entire chapter is worth reading. ^_^;  
-  
  
In the pre-dawn air, there was a stillness. The Tycoon glided gently through the calm waters, and only a few stars lingered at the western edge of the sky. At the eastern horizon, strange and subtle colors were beginning to spread, staining the sea and reflecting off the Masamune's cold blade.  
  
Adjusting his grip on the hilt, Seth took a breath, lifted the sword above his head, and slashed. Using the momentum of the motion, he pivoted on one bare foot and delivered a thrust, and drew the sword back as he swung into a ready position, hefting the blade over his right shoulder.  
  
Step, turn, thrust, slash. Stop, coil, crouch and pivot, bring the sword up in a killing arc and start again. It was something akin to a dance, something entrancing and lethally beautiful. Seth could feel the fatigue beginning to set in, and he was determined to beat it. If he couldn't stand up to a simple training session, how on earth was he supposed to face Jenova?  
  
He paused a moment in his dance, closing his eyes against a sudden pain. Seth was, by all accounts, not at all a morning person - no doubt Lucy, on seeing him up so early, would have wanted to check his temperature - and he would not even have been up now but for a nightmare.  
  
Hardly even a nightmare, really - it was more a memory, than a dream.  
  
It was one thing, of course, to *know* that he, as Sephiroth, had killed Aerith; to have the word settled into his consciousness and know that it had happened. It was an entirely different thing to *remember* it, to know the reality behind the words with sickening clarity - down to the feel of his sword penetrating the innocent flesh, the look of horror and rage in Cloud's sharp blue eyes, feeling the smile on his face and the small tinny sound the White Materia made as it fell...  
  
That had been part of the dream, and had stayed with him. The rest was strange, half-remembered - images of being the one in Cloud's place, holding Aerith's broken form, except it wasn't Aerith, it was Aerin, stabbed through the heart--  
  
"No!"  
  
He slashed wildly at the air, redoubling the efforts of his lethal dance.  
  
"That WON'T happen!" he screamed at the air between strikes, his voice breathless and strangled. "It won't! It WON'T!"  
  
At last the sword fell still and Seth sank, exhausted, to his knees. His heavy breath was almost inaudible against the constant sound of the waves.  
  
There was a sound behind him, faint and solid, and then Seth jumped as a pale, long-fingered hand landed on his bare shoulder.   
  
"You shouldn't wear yourself out like that," came a low voice from behind him, and Seth swung his head around, surprised.  
  
Vincent, kneeling beside Seth, was wearing neither his bandana, nor his cape, and even the hand that rested on Seth's shoulder was bare of its usual glove. Unfettered, his hair fell into his eyes and nearly obscured them. Hints of red highlighted the ebon strands, the faint glow from his eyes much more evident in shadow than in light. If not for the strange, melancholy look in those same eyes, Seth thought Vincent might have looked sinister.  
  
"I have to," Seth gasped. "I have to train - have to be strong or I won't have a hope of beating Jenova."  
  
Vincent's expression softened, and a tiny smile spread over his thin lips, a sight so unexpected and strange that Seth almost missed what Vincent said next.  
  
"You won't have a hope of beating her if you exhaust yourself, either."  
  
"We don't know when we'll fight her," Seth insisted. "Shouldn't I at least try?"  
  
"Seth, I think you are as ready as you will ever be. We will fight Jenova soon, be assured of that. It is pointless to expect to be able to increase your strength significantly before this fight. There is no way you could get any sort of positive result in the time we have, and it will only wear you down if you try."  
  
"Then what am I supposed to do?!" Seth yanked away from Vincent's gentle grip and jumped to his feet. "Vincent - I'm going to go nuts if I don't *do something*. How can I know if I'm strong enough to defeat Jenova?! I have to defeat her! I HAVE to!"  
  
Vincent calmly stood up, and gently placed one finger on Seth's chest, over his heart.  
  
"The easiest target for Jenova is a weak mind," he said quietly. "That was how she was able to reach Cloud. That was how she was *almost* able to reach me. Emotional and mental stability, I promise you, will be your best weapons against her."  
  
Seth tilted his head slightly, his brows knitting together as he looked into Vincent's eyes.  
  
"...she almost...?"  
  
"At Mideel." Vincent nodded once, wearily, and removed his hand.   
  
"Wha..."  
  
"...I don't know how much longer I can keep her out," Vincent said, turning to face the beginning sunrise. "She knows things, that she can use against me. And I've... begun to remember things, that I had forgotten. Weapons I kept for use against myself - that she could easily pick up and use against me, if she only had the chance."  
  
Seth blinked several times, his expression wavering between compassion and worry. This wasn't like Vincent.  
  
"...You may have to make good on that favor I asked of you."  
  
It took only a moment before Seth realized what Vincent was talking about - then, in an explosion of motion, he backed away, shaking his head fiercely, white hair whipping about his face like a strange halo.  
  
"No! I won't!" He punctuated his words with a single swipe of Masamune through the air. "If you-- you just won't, okay?! I won't LET you!!"  
  
"How could you possibly stop me...?" Vincent's eyes were wide. He had been caught off guard. "If she tempted me..."   
  
"I don't know! I just won't let it happen, Vincent! I - CAN'T let her get another person! Never again! She *killed* Aerith, just for getting in her way! I can't let it happen again! I can't!!"  
  
Vincent stepped forward, extending a hand as if to comfort Seth, but Seth had already turned around, burying his face in his hand, his shoulders tense.  
  
"I remember it, Vincent - I remember what I did at the City of the Ancients," he said, his voice choked. "I can't... let that happen again... to *anyone*!"  
  
He spun around again, his face filled with pain, a ferocity in his movement. "Sephiroth went insane because of Jenova. Aerith died because of Jenova. I can't let her take anyone else, ever!"  
  
"Seth..."  
  
"I can't.... I *can't*...."  
  
Vincent reached out, and pulled the unresisting Seth into a supportive embrace. Seth put his head against Vincent's shoulder and wept into the black fabric of his shirt. Masamune clattered to the deck as the white-haired teen brought his arms up to reciprocate the hold, his grip strong and desperate.  
  
"She will not," Vincent said softly. "I promise you. She will have no further victims. One way or another, we will end it. We will find a way."  
  
By the time they broke the embrace, the sun had begun its ascent into the sky.  
  
-  
  
It was easier, Aerin felt, to leave quietly by dawn. She had to leave quickly, and she doubted her ability to look her mother in the eye and say farewell, after the previous night. She had to leave now, and quickly. She half wished for just a moment, one last exchange - but then, a small and superstitious part of her feared that saying goodbye would make it final. And she fully intended to come back.  
  
Gypsum warbled as Aerin adjusted her harness, butting her feathered head against her rider's. Aerin smiled a little bit and reached up to pet the black crest.  
  
"Are you ready, girl?"  
  
Gypsum cooed happily, dipping her head once in a nod. Aerin smiled and took hold of the chocobo's reins.  
  
"Let's go find Zair, then."  
  
A stray glance upwards as she led Gypsum from the stables, and Aerin found herself looking straight at the Candle. She swallowed, remembering her dream from the previous night.  
  
It was rather interesting, from a historical standpoint, how in only seventeen years the entire world seemed to have reverted to a belief system that dated back to the Cetra. During the time of Shinra and Materia, the summons - once called "espers" by the Cetra - had come to be regarded as little more than convenient tools, no different from any Materia - more valuable, perhaps, for their rarity, but otherwise the same. The same creatures that the Cetra had revered as small gods had become a market commodity.  
  
When Shinra fell, a slow but undeniable change had taken place. People began to believe in the espers again.   
  
Some places, of course, had been quicker to return to that reverence than had others. Cosmo Canyon had always been a spiritual place, and had thus always had great respect for the Planet and the espers. The people of Wutai had always regarded Leviathan as a god, many people holding to their beliefs even after losing to Shinra in the war. It took almost no time for the majority of the country's populace to regain their faith in Leviathan after the Meteor Crisis was over.  
  
After the Meteor Crisis, some regions had begun to follow Wutai's lead. The esper Odin had been accepted as lord of the Nibel area, Titan the patron spirit of Mideel and Gongaga, and, of course, Phoenix had come to Cosmo Canyon. Legend had it that Cosmo had actually been the fire esper's first home - that Phoenix had been born in the Candle.  
  
Aerin bowed her head slightly. Knowing about Phoenix and believing in her was one thing. But...  
  
Now, somehow, she thought she could *feel* the esper's presence, an almost palpable thing, an unusual strength she had never felt before. It was at once reassuring and frightening.  
  
Shaking her head, she moved forward, smiling at Gypsum, who had begun to eye her with concern.  
  
"Don't give me that look. I'm fine, see?"  
  
She reached up to pet Gypsum's feathered head, smiling as the chocobo relaxed and leaned against her hand with a little coo.  
  
"Now come on. Let's find Zair."  
  
-  
  
"Hey, you."  
  
In response, Zair mumbled and groaned, pulling the thin covers over his head.  
  
"Lazy ass," Cloud said without rancor, grinning at the human-shaped lump under the sheets. "You used to be up with the sun."  
  
"Screw off, Spike," came Zair's muffled voice.  
  
"Aerin's already up and she was up later than you were. C'mon, rise and shine."  
  
"I said screw off."  
  
"Get up or else." Cloud was still grinning.  
  
"No."  
  
The covers were yanked off, and before Zair could even grab for them, Cloud went straight for his unprotected sides and tickled.   
  
For a good five minutes, the burrow rang with the sounds of screaming laughter, fruitless struggling, and Zair's begging the older man to stop before he finally broke loose, very much wide awake. Cloud was howling with laughter, and the look of death he received from Zair only made him laugh harder.  
  
"Spiky-ass bastard," Zair growled.  
  
"I *warned* you," Cloud got out between cackles.  
  
"You damn well did not, you just said 'or else'--"  
  
"Right, I warned you, it's your fault if you didn't take it seriously--"  
  
"How the hell was I supposed to know you'd make good on it?! You never did before!"  
  
Cloud's grin evaporated, and it suddenly was very quiet in the room. Zair winced and looked down, silently reprimanding himself.  
  
'Foot *out* of mouth, Zair, that's a good boy...'  
  
"You were a SOLDIER before," Cloud murmured, not taking his eyes from Zair. The boy glanced up, and eye contact was made and held. "And I was just a scrawny little recruit."  
  
Zair swallowed and ran a hand through his untamed hair. "...We've changed a lot," he mumbled at last.  
  
It was a bloody role reversal, that's what it was. Cloud had been small and skinny back in those days, but years in the lab had given him the body of a SOLDIER. Zair remembered feeling those muscles under his arms when he carried the nearly comatose young man to Midgar - remembered seeing, through spirit's eyes, the proof of Cloud's new strength in the dangerous days that followed - but seventeen years out of sight made the memories fade, and he was continually amazed by the transformation of the skinny, pale Nibel boy to this accomplished swordsman in front of him. And the change was deeper than the mere physical - time and experience had mellowed Cloud, lightened his heart and made him quicker to smile and to laugh, made him almost - almost a mirror to Zax.  
  
And Zair had taken Cloud's place - the sixteen-year-old kid, strong but never strong enough, never wise enough, never what he wanted to be--  
  
He looked away from Cloud. If he looked, he could see his legacy in those muscles, that bronzed skin, that sun-bleached hair and those glowing blue eyes. He couldn't bear to see.   
  
Cloud stood up, and slowly crossed the floor to stand beside Zair. He did not turn to face the boy, only stood, gazing stoically ahead.  
  
"I wanted to be just like you," he said, his voice thin and half-broken. "You and Sephiroth."  
  
"I know," Zair said, forcing the words through a too-tight throat.  
  
"I wanted to be *just* like you," Cloud repeated, and took a deep breath. "I wanted--"  
  
"Don't." Zair's voice broke, and he spun to face the older man. "Don't say it - I know." He swallowed, and closed his eyes briefly. "I'm sorry, Cloud. We couldn't give you--"  
  
"You gave me plenty," Cloud murmured, not moving or turning, still staring into space. "You don't have to apologize."  
  
Zair looked down and away.  
  
"Cloud--"  
  
"Let it go."  
  
Zair looked up, and into glowing eyes like shards of sky - 'just like mine' - and Cloud's tanned face stretched into a smile of sages.  
  
And abruptly, he moved away.  
  
"I brought this for you," he said, reaching for something just outside the doorway. Turning back to face Zair, he held it out.  
  
It was the Buster Sword.  
  
Nicked and marked and crisscrossed with a hundred scars of battle, the steel nonetheless shone bright and lethal in Cloud's expert hands. The edge was still keen, and promised to serve its holder well. Zair reached out, almost reverently, to take the hilt, hefted it and settled into a battle posture.  
  
And he knew then that it was wrong.  
  
The weight was uncomfortable and oddly alien now - the size and feel of the blade strange and unfamiliar. Seeing it brought back memories and felt like home. Holding it told him volumes. There was no going back.  
  
He lowered it to the ground in despair. Lifting his gaze to Cloud's face, he saw surprise, confusion, and maybe even a little hurt...  
  
Zair sighed, smiled, and handed it back.  
  
"It's yours, kid. You earned it. I've got my Hardedge - I'll be fine."  
  
Whether Cloud believed that the simple excuse was the whole truth of the matter, or understood the real reasons behind it, Zair would never know. The man just smiled and accepted the sword, and turned.   
  
"You should get ready to go, then. Aerin will be waiting - you have to get going."  
  
"I know." Zair sighed and turned back to the bed. He waited until he heard Cloud shift, and walk away - it wasn't until Cloud's footsteps had faded that he moved.   
  
He held the hairband in his hand for just a moment before tying his hair back into his customary tight ponytail.  
  
'...goodbye.'  
  
-  
  
He was smiling when he met Aerin, and they left Cosmo in the breaking dawn. Zair never told her what had transpired between him and Cloud. Aerin never asked.   
  
-  
  
"Lunar Harp?" The chief archaeologist scratched his stubbly chin thoughtfully. "Well, this did used to be Ancient territory--"  
  
"Cetra," the soft-voiced woman before him corrected, smiling. "That was their proper name. Cetra."  
  
The archaeologist nodded in return. "'Scuse me. This used to be Cetra territory, so there might still be some around - no clue how many, though. Far as we can tell, they weren't common even during that time.  
  
"I would imagine not," the woman agreed gently. "Do you think you could find one?"  
  
"Well - apparently one or two got dug up almost twenty years ago, so... Well, I guess we could try." He smiled, a few wrinkles around his eyes deepening.   
  
"Thank you." Her smile was like moonbeams.  
  
"Oh, it's no trouble, just what we do. We'll be glad to help you, Ms...?"  
  
"Jocasta," the woman replied. "Dr. Jocasta Lazare. Midgar Department of Anthropology."  
  
The man smiled and nodded. "Right. Well, how 'bout you just make yourself at home, and we'll start diggin'. And if we find anything, we'll let you know. 'Kay?"  
  
Jocasta bowed deeply, smiling. "Thank you for your help, sir."  
  
Inwardly, Jenova crowed in triumph.  
  
-  
  
The day had passed in relative calm. Seth had spent the entire day after the interlude on the deck in his room, only emerging to eat, feed Zion and stretch his legs. His dream would not leave him alone, and it made him restless - and angry.  
  
'So *many* people suffered because of what I did. What Jenova did.'  
  
Night had fallen, and Vincent and Faris were asleep. Seth padded on bare feet through the ship, trying not to breathe too loudly.  
  
This decision had been made earlier in the day, and time and thought had only hardened his resolution. He was going to do this.  
  
He reached the door of the cabin, and carefully unlocked it with a key freshly stolen from Faris' bedroom. Faris, thank Odin, was a heavy sleeper and snored like a dragon. The key had been remarkably easy to steal.  
  
A compass - good, Faris seemed to keep more than one in the cabin, one little pocket compass wouldn't be missed.  
  
Maps - maps - oh, hell. Seth left them alone, all he really needed was the compass.  
  
Now, where was the last thing...   
  
Aha.  
  
His bag was at his side, and packed. He quickly took out his notebook and copied down the set of instructions from the small piece of paper, and backed out of the cabin, closing and locking the door behind him. From there, it was another harrowing trip into Faris' room to replace the key. He didn't need it any more.  
  
The next task was to get Zion out of the stables without the big chocobo making too much noise. This was accomplished with relative ease by giving the bird a particularly large green, though he still dreaded the other birds waking up and chirping and alerting the whole damn ship.  
  
And finally...  
  
Zion warbled inquisitively, earning a frantic "Sssshh!!" from his rider.  
  
They were at the back of the ship, on deck. The solar collectors were retracted - they would be of no use during the night, of course - and the way was clear for a lifeboat to be lowered.   
  
Seth urged Zion in first after slinging his bag and cape over the chocobo's back, and it wasn't until he'd gotten the boat safely down into the water that he jumped.  
  
The water was *frigid*, and Seth had to fight to catch his breath when he surfaced, desperately grabbing at the side of the boat with chilled fingers. Zion's beak closed around his collar, and he found himself rather unceremoniously dumped into the boat. It rocked dangerously with the sudden weight, but it held.  
  
"Thanks," he gasped. Zion cooed.  
  
Shivering with the cold, Seth backed up against his chocobo, taking his cape and putting it back on, pulling up the hood. Zion chirped and put one small wing around him, snuggling in as close as he could to share his warmth. Seth smiled and gave the bird a grateful scritch before taking up the oar.   
  
He looked back once, briefly. After that, rowing north into the sea, he didn't look back again.  
  
-  
  
Knock. Knock. Knock.  
  
"Seth?"  
  
Knock-knock-knock.  
  
"Seth, are you in there?"  
  
Silence from inside. Faris paused, frowning.  
  
"It's morning, Seth. Don't you want breakfast?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Come on, kid, get up. This isn't funny!"  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
Faris sighed and turned to face her friend. "Your charge refuses to even talk to me."  
  
Vincent's brow furrowed. "That is not like him."  
  
"I know - at least *yesterday* he was *talking*," Faris groaned, and pounded on the door. "Seth, this is not bloody funny, get out here!"  
  
"Let me." Faris stepped aside as Vincent moved forward, knocking once before giving up and opening the door. Faris cringed a bit at the breach of privacy as Vincent walked in, but silently conceded that politeness wasn't getting them anywhere.  
  
"Se-- Seth?!"  
  
Vincent's voice had started out calm, but suddenly turned panicked. Faris, startled, pushed past him into the room.  
  
"He's gone!... And the Masamune?!"  
  
Vincent, eyes wide and wild with fear, sniffed the air once, twice, and before Faris could ask, Faemdos dashed down the hallway, skidding to a stop just outside the bedroom door.  
  
"Captain! There's a lifeboat missing!"  
  
Faris and Vincent looked at each other in horrified disbelief, reaching the same conclusion simultaneously.   
  
They bolted immediately for the stables, leaving a confused Faemdos in their wake.  
  
Faris just managed to get into the stables first, by about a tenth of a second. The two of them stared at the telltale empty stall for a moment, not quite able to accept.  
  
"He so fucking did *not*!!" Faris howled, neatly summing up the common sentiment.  
  
-  
  
Jenova was near.   
  
That much Masamune was sure of. It had always felt a certain way when the virus was present - a part of its inner magic responded, ringing with the echoes of her siren song. It resonated to her feel, as much as it did when the last of the Cetra had been near. Not a call or a compulsion - merely a response. An echo.  
  
It had sometimes wondered if the connection worked both ways - if Jenova could sense the presence of the sword. It had never bothered to find out the answer; it simply wasn't relevant.  
  
Until now.  
  
/If she knows I am here, she knows that Seth is as well./  
  
Masamune nudged against its wielder's sleeping mind with quiet urgency. It had never cared about right or wrong - they were all the same in death, and with its very essence balanced between holy and unholy, it became a thing of utter neutrality - but it had its duty and it would never, ever let Seth be harmed. If Jenova knew they were there, she would move in. And Masamune could not protect Seth from the kind of attack Jenova would launch. Though she could fight, very well, she preferred subtlety.   
  
And, even bound to Seth's soul by Cetra magic, Masamune was not equipped to shield Seth from Jenova's manipulations. The part of it that resonated to her song would always let her in.  
  
Seth's decision had been rash and foolish. Masamune had not hesitated to tell him this, and Seth himself admitted it was perhaps a little hasty. But an entire day's worth of thinking had not changed the boy's mind.  
  
['I have to fight her, Masamune. I'll get there quicker than the Tycoon will - I could take her by surprise, maybe weaken her before Vincent shows up, and then - well, then we'll see, but I *have to do this*...']  
  
Masamune had given up on changing Seth's mind. But it still refused to go passively along with the boy's mad plan. He would have gotten himself *killed* if it had.  
  
['I know she's strong. But my mind's made up. I'm not going to sit around going "Oh woe is me, I'm Sephiroth" anymore. I refuse. Yes, I am Sephiroth. No, I am not going to let myself fall that far again. Never again. This time, I'm going to *do* something about Jenova while I still *can*.']  
  
It should have told Seth about Jenova - told him that she was here in Bone, looking for the harp that would awaken the forest.  
  
/He'd have attacked right away if he knew. Jenova would have annihilated him. The playing ground isn't *level* yet./  
  
/...Although,/ it grudgingly admitted to itself, /I'll be a dull-edged kitchen knife if I know how to *make* it level./  
  
Jenova was still down there. She wasn't moving yet, but the morning was aging, and Seth was still asleep. Masamune nudged again, harder this time.  
  
/Seth!/  
  
This time, it worked. Seth stirred, then groaned and pulled himself awake.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
/It's morning. Let's go./  
  
"Mm... where do you think she is?" Seth's voice was low and sleepy, but coherent.  
  
/.../  
  
"We know she's on this continent, but where on this continent? Tell me, Masamune."  
  
/What makes you think I know?/ A little too quick, too defensive.  
  
"You always know... don't you?" Seth closed his eyes, a sardonic smile crossing his face. His voice was still low and thin. "You sensed her when she found us in the Mythril Mountains."  
  
Masamune lacked a body that could squirm, and rather wished right then that it didn't.  
  
"We both sensed the danger - but you knew what it was. You just didn't tell me. Am I right?"  
  
/...yes./  
  
"You felt her at Mideel."  
  
/We already knew she was there, that's--/  
  
"But you did, didn't you?"  
  
/........yes./  
  
Seth nodded and got up, tapping Zion's head to wake him up as well.   
  
'And you were how she could get to me.'  
  
/Seth, this is useless. We need to move!/  
  
'So point the way.'  
  
Masamune waffled for a moment. It could easily lie and point Seth anywhere, or even claim not to know. Seth would never know otherwise.  
  
But there was something, an edge to Seth's thoughts, that made Masamune back down, for possibly the first time in its existance.  
  
/Before I tell you, promise to act rational and hear what I have to say before you do anything./  
  
'Okay.'  
  
/She's in Bone. Right now./  
  
Seth immediately tensed up, head swinging around to look at the excavation town.  
  
/But don't charge in!/ Masamune's harsh steel voice cut through Seth's thoughts. /She can best you easily. I can suggest two courses of action./  
  
'Suggest away.' Seth's stance was rigid, ready to swing himself up onto Zion at a moment's notice and storm the tiny village.  
  
/Sensibly, you could wait for the Tycoon and attack her with Vincent at your side./  
  
'Out. If I was going to do that I'd have stayed on the ship.'  
  
/Very well,/ Masamune said resignedly. /She is after the Black Materia, correct?/  
  
'Yes...' Seth was starting to seem impatient.  
  
/Last we knew, it was in the crater. But it is apparently not now - if it was, Jenova would have already gone there, instead of dallying in Bone. Can you think of any reason why she would stay here?/  
  
'To wait for us, maybe.'  
  
/Think, Seth. If she had any kind of access to the Black Materia, she would go for it as soon as she could. But she hasn't, so she apparently doesn't. There's only one place I can think of that she wouldn't immediately be able to enter./  
  
'And that is...'  
  
/The Sleeping Forest. She would need a--/  
  
"--Lunar Harp," Seth sighed aloud, finishing the thought. "I get it. And Cloud needed to get a Lunar Harp in Bone..."  
  
/Exactly. So what this says to me is that the Black Materia is probably in there, somewhere. I can get you through - I led Sephiroth through once, I can lead you through. If we can get to the Black Materia before she can, we can destroy it and she will have no way to summon Meteor./  
  
'Then we're doing that!' Seth jumped up onto Zion's back.  
  
/I somehow thought you would say that,/ Masamune said wearily.  
  
-  
  
Vincent stood in the bow alone, a folded piece of paper clenched in his hand. His claw was clenched around the railing. In the slight haze, made golden by sunrise, he could just make out Bone.   
  
His hand tightened around the paper, and he brought it up to read it yet again. The spare, pencilled writing was a little smeared, but still legible.  
  
-Vincent and Faris,  
  
I'm going to Bone by myself. I know, you're going to be really mad at me, but I have to do this. Jenova has hurt so many people and I can't let her have anyone else. All this time, I've just been sitting around, crying on other people's shoulders. I haven't been able to just accept that I'm Sephiroth and move on - and meanwhile, Jenova's getting ready to destroy the Planet.   
  
I don't expect you to understand or even forgive, but I have to do something about this. You know we have to destroy Jenova. I just need to do something, I can't just sit around. There's a chance I can take her by surprise - and even if I can't kill her, maybe I can at least weaken her. I have to try.-  
  
Here erasure marks on the paper indicated that Seth had begun to say something else, but had changed his mind.  
  
-I won't promise to come through this alive. I can't promise that. I know Jenova's strong - but I have to try. I have to.  
  
If I die - take the Phoenix charm off Masamune and take it back to Aerin. Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't give it to her in person, and that I cared about her a lot. And go to Nibelheim, and ask for Lucy Drasil. She's my mom. Tell her what happened, and tell her I love her and that I'll be working on the flowers with Dad. She'll understand.  
  
And Vincent? If you live through this, for the love of Odin stay the hell *out* of your godsdamned *coffin*. Okay? If you don't I swear to Holy I will come back and *haunt* you until you get your ass out and actually *live.* I mean it.  
  
Thanks for everything, both of you.  
  
Seth-  
  
Suicide. It was as good as suicide, what Seth had done. He could not possibly hope to defeat Jenova alone...  
  
'I *will not* let you do this, Seth. Not now. Not when I *finally* have a chance to make up for my failure with Sephiroth.'  
  
Folding the letter back up and placing it tenderly in his pocket, he lifted his eyes to the village again as Faris, in the cabin, began the delicate work of docking.  
  
'I will not let you die.'  
  
There were tears tracking down his face. He didn't care. 


	11. Chapter 11 Ne Me Mori Facias

Chapter 11 - Ne Me Mori Facias  
-  
A/N: This is the chapter where it all hits the fan.  
  
There is nothing to say but this: Have faith. All of you who have been reading, I thank you, and I beg you not to stop now. It's not over yet.   
  
On rather more mundane notes: As far as I'm concerned, yes, Vincent does have fangs, but is not a vampire. With all the crap Hojo did to him, why shouldn't he have pointy teeth?  
  
And yes, the title of this chapter is pure brutal irony.  
  
-  
  
"... understand?"   
  
Faris, her tanned face grim, nodded slowly.   
  
"I understand," she said flatly.  
  
Vincent finished checking his ammo, clicked the safety catch into place, and hooked Death Penalty at his side as he rose to his feet.  
  
It wasn't much of a plan, but it was the best they'd been able to come up with. Vincent and Seth were permitted three days to find Jenova and fight her. At sunset on the third day, if he was still alive and in control of himself, Vincent was to shoot a flare into the sky. Faris would be watching for it. If it failed to show, Faris was to assume the worst and use the ship's radio to contact Cloud. Even assuming it did show, if Vincent didn't come back by the sunset after that one, she still was to contact Cloud.  
  
The other former members of AVALANCHE, Vincent had said, were getting older and had their own responsibilities now - but if the Planet was in danger, it was everyone's concern. AVALANCHE would come, winter storms be damned.   
  
Faris had wanted to ask what good they could possibly do if Jenova was strong enough to defeat the reincarnation of Sephiroth and the strongest demihuman Faris herself knew; but seeing the expression on Vincent's face, she just hadn't had the heart to ask. He looked like a man with absolutely nothing left to lose.  
  
"I want you to stay *right here* - if the ship is endangered, save the radio and head into town. You need to stay alive at all costs."  
  
"I know," Faris said dully.   
  
'Say something. He's going to die out there. Don't let him go without saying something.'  
  
"If you don't see the flare right away at sunset, call them - I may just have been delayed or not noticed the changing light but you cannot afford to allow for any margin of error, simply assume--"  
  
"Vincent, shut up."  
  
He paused and glanced at her as he strapped the flares to his belt.  
  
"I know all that. The plan's clear, okay? I want to say something before you go."  
  
"Say it then. I don't have much time."  
  
"Try not to die out there."  
  
Vincent blinked, and his eyes softened, almost imperceptibly.  
  
"I cannot promise that."  
  
"Shut up, that's Seth's line." Faris clasped Vincent's shoulders. "Listen. Just be careful out there and especially don't go *letting* yourself die, okay?"  
  
Vincent's brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Faris cut him off.  
  
"If you die now it will be meaningless and it will *not* fucking atone for *anything*. You're *not* a sinner, you're *not* a demon, you're a man just like any other and my *friend*. So just try to stay alive. Okay?"  
  
Vincent said nothing for a few minutes, simply looking at Faris. The sailor met his gaze firmly.  
  
"Okay?" she repeated.  
  
"I will try." He bowed his head once.   
  
"Good." Faris let go of him and pulled back, flashing him her cocky grin. He smiled thinly in response, and Faris punched his arm playfully. His smile widened a bit, and he nodded firmly.   
  
And he was away, striding down the ship's ramp faster than it seemed he should be able to go. Mari was already there, waiting, and he mounted her with an expert's easy grace. Faris watched them run, before turning away.  
  
She found a comfortable perch at the back of the boat, and sat there for a long time, watching the sea.  
  
'Go get 'er, Vincent.'  
  
-  
  
Walking through the Sleeping Forest was, Seth had decided, very disconcerting.  
  
If one ever wondered why the forest had been given its name, the question was answered about five steps in. It was like walking through a dream, the way it dulled the senses and hazed the mind. Alone, Seth was certain he'd never have been able to find a way through - or even back out.  
  
It was only the sullen light of Masamune, lurking in the back of his mind, that saved Seth from getting lost forever. Even so, he could sense the forest's attempts to confuse him, and he could almost see the trees changing, out of the corners of his eyes. The best thing to do, he had learned, was stare straight ahead and just walk, without stopping to think about the surroundings.  
  
/Remember the last time we did this, Seth?/  
  
'Shut up,' Seth thought tersely. 'I'm trying *not* to think *or* remember. This place makes my head hurt.'  
  
/The Cetra made it to do exactly that./  
  
'Well they did a damn good job then.'  
  
/It didn't bother you last time./  
  
'Last time I think I was just too insane to *notice*.'  
  
Masamune actually laughed at that.  
  
'Now can we please not talk? I want to find the Black Materia and conversation with you *has* been known to distract me.'  
  
/As you wish,/ Masamune replied, sounding amused.  
  
'And stop grinning at me.'  
  
/Swords can't grin,/ Masamune said innocently.  
  
'Shut up.'  
  
-  
  
The village had changed very little in seventeen years - more permanent dwellings had been erected in the area, but otherwise it was more or less as Vincent could remember it. To him, a man himself unchanged by time, it was almost a comfort.   
  
"Stay."   
  
Mari blinked at him and cooed softly, settling down on the ground and fluffing her feathers. Vincent took a moment to scratch behind her ears.   
  
He had raised her from a hatchling, and she had been an unfailingly loyal companion, as tame chocobos tended to be. She was still strong, but aging, and in a few years - maybe five, give or take a few - she would probably no longer be able to bear his weight.  
  
Sighing, he knelt beside her. Her soft red eyes fixed on his in an inscrutable gaze.   
  
"I'll be back," he said in a low tone.   
  
Mari closed her eyes, bowed her head, and nudged his shoulder. Vincent sighed, stroking the feathers on her neck before getting to his feet.  
  
"Be good," he said softly, turning and entering the village.  
  
-  
  
There was a light breeze, and some clouds in the sky, but neither seemed particularly threatening to the young travelers. Gypsum had settled down for a long ride, and good-naturedly allowed Aerin to rest against her side. Staring at the clouds, Aerin lazily let her fingers trail in the water. The breeze kicked up slightly, and Aerin closed her eyes as the cool air blew over her.  
  
It was pleasant - a slow, lazy peace, filled with fresh salt air and cool water and soft feathers and the sound of the waves. For the moment, Aerin felt safe, forgetting about her purpose for just a little while.  
  
"Hey, Aerin."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Get your fingers out of the water before something bites them off."  
  
Aerin had already yanked her hand clear up to her chest by the time Zair started laughing.  
  
"Aerin, I was kidding!"  
  
She stared at him for a moment - just a moment - then she lunged.  
  
He saw it coming a moment too late, managing only a startled yelp before he fell into the water with an almighty splash. Strife, surprised by the noise, stopped swimming immediately, swiveling his long neck around to try and see what happened.  
  
He surfaced a moment later, to the sound of Aerin's laughter. Wiping the water from his face, he looked up to see the healer offering him a slender hand. Giving her a sour look, he took it and allowed himself to be pulled out of the water.  
  
"Gonna get you for that someday," he grumbled.  
  
"You asked for it," Aerin said lightly. "Don't worry. We'll try and get you a nice bath when we reach the North Continent. Until then, well, you'll have to deal with the crystallized salt in your hair. Sorry."  
  
"You're enjoying this too much."  
  
"Yes I am," she returned cheerfully.  
  
Zair glared at her for a moment and then stuck out his tongue. Aerin laughed aloud, continuing to giggle helplessly as Zair made a big show of crossing the raft to signal Strife that is was okay to go ahead. The gold chocobo chirped and immediately obliged, and they were going forward again. Zair sighed and settled himself next to Aerin against Gypsum's side.  
  
"Sorry," Aerin said finally, grinning.  
  
"Mm. S'okay, I guess. Just be glad I wasn't wearing my jacket, I'd have just about had to kill you." He turned to grin at her.  
  
"Over a jacket?"  
  
"Hell yes. I love that jacket. It is sacred. You do not mess with the jacket."  
  
Aerin stifled a laugh, then turned her gaze back up to the sky. The two of them watched the clouds for a moment in comfortable silence.   
  
Zair didn't want to break that silence, not with the day so perfect and Aerin so content - but there was something weighing on his mind...  
  
He sighed and looked up, staring out at the sea. "How are you going to fight her?"  
  
Aerin blinked, surprise and confusion spreading over her face.  
  
"I... what do you mean?"  
  
"How can you fight her? How can you win?" His voice was pained. "Damn it - I *know* Jenova. I know what she can *do*. You all should have completely *obliterated* her by now, but she's alive and even stronger than she was. You know, she's the whole reason Seth even exists--"  
  
"What?!"  
  
Zair suddenly found small, dark hands grasping his bare arm with almost painful force, and a frantic face near his own.  
  
"What do you mean, Zair?! Tell me!"  
  
"Hey, hey - calm down--"  
  
"Tell me!!"  
  
Zair sighed, his shoulders slumping.  
  
"Give me... a minute to get it all straight in my head, okay?"  
  
-  
  
[Meteor had fallen. It had not hit but it had fallen, and Midgar had been almost ripped apart by the storms. It was sad, painful - horrible to look at but impossible to look away from.  
  
Somehow, unbelievably, most of Sectors 5 and 6 had survived, and mourners had congregated along the common wall. Flowers (so many, more than had ever existed in Midgar before, all colors and shapes and sizes - where the Planet had bled they had sprung to strange, vibrant life) lined the walls, along with candles and the scribbled names of so many who had died...  
  
Some of the lost wandered among the mourners - some of them angry, some wailing with their living families, an obscene few laughing cruelly at the misery - but most of them simply milling about uselessly, looking lost and forlorn. There were so *many* here...  
  
'Like me.'  
  
Zax bowed his ethereal head, scratching absently at the nape of his neck - more to distract himself than anything else.  
  
'Congratulations, you're all dead. Welcome to hell.'  
  
So many *more* than the ones he saw had died in the fall. Maybe they weren't here yet - or had wandered elsewhere - or, lucky sons of bitches, had returned to the Planet. Zax couldn't say he pitied the ones who had.  
  
'Aerith... must be so much at peace there.'  
  
He cast a lamenting gaze to the defiantly clear sky, free completely of the crimson bane that had been responsible for all this death. He almost wished to see it there, just to curse it one more time.  
  
'Fucking goddamn stupid *rock,* Aerith *died* to stop it...'  
  
'And I never even got to tell her I was *sorry.*'  
  
Sorry for dying. Sorry for going on that last job with Sephiroth. Sorry for not telling her, one last time, that he loved her...  
  
'And she thought... she thought I *left* her, for some other girl without even *telling* her, and she died and went to the Planet thinking that...'  
  
'And I can't even join her!!'  
  
It was guilt keeping him here - guilt for failing to stop Sephiroth when it mattered, for dying when Cloud needed him most, for not being able to be with Aerith when she most needed his love - guilt, and shame, and a burning self-loathing - he'd never been strong enough when it *counted.*  
  
His footsteps had carried him far along the wall, along the line of the mourning. Zax looked down at them, and wanted to cry with them. He too had lost. He had lost *everything.*   
  
God but it was strange and painful to look at these people, these living breathing sobbing people and *envy* them their life. To know he didn't belong with them, that he was just a ghost, just one more shade among the hundreds...  
  
'Stop this. Stop it now. It's not getting you anywhere.'  
  
He finally came to a stop, letting his eyes trail along the mourning wall. God, so many names...  
  
His eyes, following that line, met black.  
  
Disbelieving, he jerked his head up, only to have his first thought confirmed - *he* stood there, just the same as ever, just the same--  
  
"SEPHIROTH?!"  
  
"Hello, Zax." He sounded sane - cold, infuriatingly cold and distant, just exactly like the man Zax had once known - and his voice was level, almost clear of all emotion. "I was just beginning to wonder where you were."  
  
Callous, cold words - even the dead should not speak of death with so little *feeling*, it was closer to them than to anyone who still drew breath, and to speak with so little regard in a fucking sea of ghosts -   
  
'You son of a...'  
  
"Why are you here?! To GLOAT?! This is ALL YOUR FAULT!! All these people--" he gestured wildly   
at the throng of lost spirits "--are dead because of YOU!"  
  
"I know."  
  
Zax could stand no more. He lunged, seizing a handful of Sephiroth's coat, and spun him half around, intent on causing as much pain as possible to the other spectre - and then he stopped, fist raised, when he saw Sephiroth's face.  
  
There had been no trace of tragedy in the man's voice, and it seemed now that it had been hidden with a master's art - because Sephiroth was crying.  
  
The thought was so absurd, so far beyond the realm of what was real and possible, that Zax found himself running through it again, all the while staring at the undeniable proof before him.   
  
Sephiroth, who never felt sorrow, or fear, or joy, or even anger - Sephiroth, the man of stone who had, for all of Zax's best efforts, been coaxed only to a sense of camaraderie and an occasional half smile - this man was crying.  
  
The general closed his eyes and turned his face away from Zax. It was amazing, really - how a face once so immobile could now display the man's shame so clearly.  
  
"....Seph."  
  
Sephiroth's lips moved, and he spoke in a whisper so thin, so broken, that Zax couldn't have heard it even if he'd known what to listen for.  
  
"What?"  
  
Silver hair fell forward, hiding Sephiroth's face in a curtain of snow as he bowed his head.  
  
".....I'm sorry," he repeated, just barely loud enough to be audible, with the faintest hint of a tremor in his voice.  
  
"Seph..."  
  
"I know it's not enough," Sephiroth continued, his voice rising. "I know - I know I can't - make it better - but I'm sorry - I'm sorry - oh gods, Zax, I'm SORRY!!"  
  
Zax first saw the blur of black and silver, then realized his hand was empty and that Sephiroth was running. For a moment, his own ethereal body would not allow him to follow the nighted general, for whom the crowd of ghosts parted like strange waters around a savior - and then he gave chase.  
  
"Seph, wait!!"  
  
Sephiroth just kept running, and Zax began to realize that he'd never quite found out just exactly how fast his general could really run when he was inspired.   
  
They were out of Midgar by the time Zax caught up to Sephiroth. The man had collapsed against a cliff, carelessly sprawled and shaking with only barely-suppressed sobs.   
  
Zax had barely been dead a month, and thought he had seen more tragedy in his time as a ghost than he ever had when he was a living SOLDIER. This, for some reason, seemed to top it all.  
  
Quietly, he knelt beside Sephiroth and gently laid his hand on the man's shoulder. Sephiroth started, but did not turn.   
  
Zax wanted to say something. But what could you say to a man like this? The first and most perfect SOLDIER, the legend, the icon, the silver god - a man with no emotion, only presence and power and authority and the unexpected capacity for a madness so violent and absolute that he had nearly pulled the whole world down with him - what could you say to this man, who was now half curled into a ball and crying like a child?  
  
His face softened, and he reached out, doing the unthinkable, something that he would never before have dared to try...  
  
"Seph, c'mere."  
  
Sephiroth allowed himself to be pulled into the gentle embrace, limp and unresisting as a rag doll. It was unbelievably absurd, but Zax had ceased to care about that - it didn't matter any more, this was now, this was real, and this was Sephiroth weeping bitterly onto his shoulder, curled against Zax's chest like a small boy to his father.   
  
"Sssh. It's - it'll be okay."  
  
The moment of comfort could have lasted as long as it had to - the passing of time doesn't matter to ghosts. For as long as Sephiroth needed a sympathetic shoulder, Zax would have been perfectly happy to sit there.   
  
He would have been happy to, had circumstances permitted.  
  
Circumstances did not permit - very abruptly, Sephiroth jerked upright, whipping his head from side to side, his face a mask of stark terror. Zax realized he had also never seen his general really *frightened* before...  
  
"Seph?!"  
  
The snow-haired man turned, gripping Zax's arms in the grip of a drowning man, and came face to face with Zax. Slitted pupils had contracted to the thinnest of lines in his Lifestream-green eyes, and his face was pale.  
  
"She wants me back," he said, his voice tight with panic. "She wants me back!"  
  
"Who wants you back?!" Zax howled back, giving the man's shoulders a shake.  
  
"Jenova!" Sephiroth hissed. "I was her best bet for victory - and she doesn't give up easily, she wants me back she aaaaaagh!" His grip intensified to levels that could even cause the dead pain as his body jerked backwards. An invisible force seemed to be pulling him back, one that he was actively fighting against. "Zax - don't let me go Zax don't let her have me dear gods DON'T LET HER HAVE ME!!"  
  
Sephiroth's entreaties were unnecessary, as Zax was already wrapping his arms fiercely around the other man, pulling back with all his strength. The world around them seemed to have faded, and had Zax noticed this he would have been considerably more worried than he already was - the invisible force redoubled its efforts, and Zax held on tenaciously, putting everything he had into this single endeavor -  
  
And it wasn't enough.  
  
He could feel Sephiroth fading, slipping away from him despite his best efforts, and Zax knew, in that moment, that Jenova would take Sephiroth back, no matter what he did.  
  
He could have resigned himself to Sephiroth's fate. He could have let go.  
  
Closing his eyes, he tightened his grip, and he could *feel* it as he and Sephiroth together were drawn out past the point of no return.  
  
In the moment before oblivion claimed them, Zax made a vow.  
  
...and a life began.]  
  
-  
  
"...Jenova was able to pull his soul out of limbo, somehow. I'm only alive because I wouldn't let go of him until it was too late. Just before I lost consciousness, he was pulled out of my grip... I guess he went to Nibelheim because that's where Jenova got him the first time..." Zair sighed, hanging his head. "And I got sent to Mideel. I guess it was too late to put me back in limbo, so she sent me there. She probably thought it was so fucking far out there that I couldn't get in the way."  
  
Aerin sat curled with her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs, her expression sober. Zair threw his head back, staring at the sky.  
  
"I promised myself I wouldn't forget. So that someday I could find Seph, and keep him away from Jenova. It was the last thought that Zax ever had." He shook his head slowly. "And then I was born. As far back as I can remember in this life, I've always known who I was."  
  
"You never did like breaking promises," Aerin said quietly.  
  
Zair shook his head slowly, then took a breath.  
  
"But... you know? I had a *lot* of time to think about that while I was growing up. And doubt's a nasty thing, you know? I started to wonder if I'd ever be able to protect him like I wanted to. Kept me up nights, sometimes."  
  
He closed his eyes, and a thin silence hung in the air. He wanted to keep speaking, wanted to tell her how it felt, being a small child with small weak hands and thin weak arms and remembering what it was like to be tall and strong, to feel the sweat of his palms against the hilt of his sword and the weight of the blade in his arms, to be a SOLDIER First Class, strong and powerful and untouchable - how it was to be eight years old and remember the smell of blood and burned flesh, the bite of Wutai liquor, and the sweetness of a first kiss with a woman too perfect to be human, to remember all this and then to look down at childish hands and realize that there was no going back, and to cry bitterly in the night for unkept promises. He wanted to tell her, but these memories were too intimate for words, and so they went untold.  
  
"It was worst when I was little," he said abruptly. "By the time I died, I couldn't really remember what it was like to be a kid. And he... fuck, I guess he lost his emotions when he was really young because he was just like a little boy. I couldn't understand it, then. And then suddenly here's me growing up again and I was *helpless*. If I'd met him then, I couldn't have done jack for him. And seeing childhood through adult eyes..." He took a deep breath and covered his eyes. "I think he must've been like that all his goddamn life. He never grew up, he was a little boy trained to kill and he never realized that wasn't the way life *is*."  
  
"And Seth does."  
  
Aerin's voice was small and gentle and sad, almost lost in the sound of the sea.  
  
Zair gazed up at a cloud, and sighed. "You know, if I didn't know.... I'd never have guessed he was Sephiroth."  
  
"He isn't," Aerin said softly, "not anymore."  
  
It was such an obvious statement, but the underlying truth of it cut Zair deeply, and he had to turn away.  
  
'And I'm not Zax,' came the unbidden thought. Zair shoved it away.  
  
'I am. I will be.'  
  
"So," he mumbled. Then, louder, "So. How *are* you going to fight Jenova?"  
  
Aerin took a deep breath and let it out. For a moment she considered telling him about Phoenix, only a moment, and then she lifted her head, eyes closed, and smiled softly. And the secret stayed inside.  
  
"I don't know exactly," she said softly. "But I'll find a way. I know I will. The Planet has faith in me."  
  
And Zair smiled back, that sad-edged smile he couldn't quite rid himself of. His eyes shut, and in the darkness he saw an image of a slightly older girl, her hair twisted in a braid, her eyes closed and tilted to a stream of sunlight that fell through cracks in the sky, with a delicate carpet of green and yellow silk at her feet - the first time Zax Denatri had ever seen Aerith Gainsborough, he had almost mistaken her for a fledgling angel.  
  
If he opened his eyes, the vision of the gentle Cetra woman would be replaced by the brown-skinned face of the Cosmo girl she had become.  
  
Zair leaned back against Gypsum, and did not open his eyes.  
  
-  
  
"Bit warm for the season, isn't it?"  
  
"It's probably just a passing weather glitch. I hear the winter storms have moved in early, nobody can sail..."  
  
"In September? Things are just going to all Meteor in a handbasket..."  
  
"Excuse me."  
  
The three men sitting around the fire stopped their idle chat and turned their heads as one to face the newcomer. The others in the small lodge followed, and dead silence reigned as people figured out who he was. Vincent closed his eyes, mentally praying to any gods that would listen to give him the strength to tolerate this.  
  
"Vincent Valentine," a voice said, and Vincent opened his eyes again to see himself face to face with the foreman. Both the face and the voice were unfamiliar, which annoyed Vincent slightly. One of the many downsides to fame was that complete strangers knew who you were.  
  
"That is my name," he said shortly.  
  
"Well, well." The foreman beamed, the wrinkles in his worn face stretching and folding. "What brings you here, sir?"  
  
"I need something excavated." Gods, he hated being famous. People calling you 'sir' all the time and beaming like a visit from a beast like him was cause to celebrate...  
  
"Would it be a Lunar Harp, by any chance?" The man's voice sounded amused, and Vincent faltered.  
  
"...yes," he said after some hesitation.  
  
"Well, it looks like you came at a good time," the foreman chuckled. "This pretty lady back here's been waiting for a Lunar Harp since yesterday. We should get one out pretty soon now - why don't you go and wait with her?"  
  
The foreman pointed as he spoke. Vincent's eyes followed the finger until they landed on a young woman furiously scribbling in a notebook. She wore a blue dress suit under a purple velvet coat, and blonde hair so pale it was almost white fell in a veil in front of her face, hiding it from view.   
  
Vincent walked silently across the room and settled himself down next to the woman, with absolutely no intention of engaging in conversation. He was going to sit here, and wait until they got the Lunar Harp out, and then he was going to find Seth and that would be that.   
  
It had not been encouraging in the slightest to find that Seth was absolutely nowhere in the village. Vincent had paced up and down the place, desperate to at least catch his trail - but there wasn't so much as a footprint, a black chocobo feather, or even a trace of his scent. Seth had not been in Bone.  
  
He closed his eyes as the woman put her notebook away. Seth hadn't been here. And foolhardy though the boy's recent actions had been, he wasn't stupid. Bone was located in a place where a great deal of warm air was trapped - over the mountains lay ice and snow. Even with his cloak, Seth was dressed far too lightly to deal with the full impact of a North Continent winter. Not even having been raised in Nibelheim would allow him to properly deal with that. And Vincent had enough faith in the boy's common sense to at least *hope* that he could recognize that danger. Which left exactly one place - the Sleeping Forest.   
  
'Are you worth *half* the trouble you cause me, Seth?' Vincent thought irritably.  
  
"Hello - you're looking for a Lunar Harp too?"  
  
The voice was startlingly sweet, and Vincent turned his head to meet the blond woman's smile. Intelligent amethyst eyes sparkled behind her half-moon lenses. She smelled of orange blossoms and Wutai cherry trees.  
  
"Yes," he replied curtly.  
  
"How *wonderful*!" The woman beamed. "I really can't wait to see one - I wonder if they'll let me keep it? I'd love to study it - see what kind of magic is in it - the Cetra were an *amazing* people, don't you think?"  
  
Vincent blinked slowly and said nothing.   
  
"I'm sorry, I haven't told you my name - I'm Jocasta, Professor Jocasta Lazare. I work at the Midgar Institute - the Department of Anthropology - I'm doing a study on the Cetra right now and it's simply astonishing, the things I've found already - It's so exciting, I never expected to have to use a Cetra artifact to get to their city, I can't *wait* to set out..."  
  
"I suppose I can safely assume that you enjoy your work," Vincent deadpanned.  
  
Jocasta blushed and nodded, giggling like a schoolgirl as she brushed her hair behind her ear.  
  
"Ah, I'm sorry - I've just always wanted to do this," she said, still smiling. "I plan to stay on in the city for some time... I want to see if I can learn anything more than what has already been discovered. We really know precious little about the Cetra... most of Dr. Gast's records were lost, and our other available studies are primarily conjecture..."  
  
Vincent studied the woman bemusedly, as she went on about the Cetra and what was known about them and how wonderful it would be to learn so much more about them. She gestured vaguely with her hands to punctuate each point, and couldn't keep the smile off her face as she went on about arcane anthropological things that Vincent couldn't hope to fully understand.   
  
Try as he might, Vincent couldn't seem to keep his walls up. He *liked* Jocasta. She was almost childlike in her delight at the prospect of even a little bit more knowledge. Her amethyst eyes sparkled as she spoke. He could barely imagine the world those eyes saw - a place of wonder, and beauty, and hidden jewels just waiting to be discovered and held to the light...  
  
Vincent blinked away an image of Nibelheim starlight and the smile of a woman with a dream, and the thought was gone as soon as it came.  
  
Outside, there was suddenly a huge cheer, and a few of the lodge's occupants went out to see what it was about. Jocasta practically leapt to her feet, beaming.  
  
"I think they've got the Lunar Harp!"  
  
-  
  
"You're coming with me?" Jocasta asked innocently, her fingers wandering over the harp's strings.  
  
"The path to the city can be dangerous," Vincent said gallantly. "You should have an escort."  
  
Jocasta smirked, giving Vincent a sly look. "So Mr. Valentine is going to protect me from the big bad monsters?"  
  
"More or less." There was a slight rustle of leaves as the forest awakened, and Jocasta stopped playing. "Shall I carry the Lunar Harp for you?"  
  
"Oh, no, that's alright." Jocasta beamed, gingerly setting the artifact inside an empty shoulderbag. "I brought this along in case I found anything I wanted to bring back for further study."  
  
Vincent smiled. "You prepared for everything, didn't you?"  
  
"Almost." Jocasta grinned. "I didn't prepare for you."  
  
Vincent chuckled, and turned away slightly. He put two fingers in his mouth and let out a long, shrill whistle.  
  
Jocasta looked at him questioningly.  
  
"I left my chocobo outside the village," he said calmly. "She comes when I whistle."  
  
"Ah. You must have trained her well."  
  
Vincent nodded vaguely as the black shape came cantering up the hill. He moved forward, a fluid streak of red and black, to meet the bird as she stopped in front of him, cooing softly and rubbing her head against his shoulder. He stroked her neck briefly before taking her reins and leading her gently to Jocasta.  
  
"Mari, this is Jocasta," he said softly. "She'll be riding--"  
  
"WARK!!!"  
  
It happened too fast for Vincent to even think - the docile, patient chocobo had taken one look at the anthropologist and exploded into a deadly fury, squawking and screaming, beating her wings and snapping at Jocasta with pure murderous intent. Only by pure reflex did Vincent manage to hold his suddenly vicious bird back, keeping Jocasta safe from the flailing beak and talons.   
  
Chocobos were not by nature meat-eaters or even very violent birds, but they were equipped to defend themselves and, if threatened, would do just that. But even then, they usually didn't even try to kill - merely wound, confuse, and escape. Mari's behavior was incomprehensible to Vincent, and deeply frightening.  
  
"MARI!" he roared, getting between her and Jocasta and baring his fangs, while keeping a tight grip on her feathered neck with one hand. He hated to use force on his beloved mount, she had always been so calmly loyal, but now it was all he could do to hold her back. "What's gotten into you?! Jocasta is a friend! FRIEND!"  
  
Mari shook her head wildly and warked again. Her rage had seemed to subside, fading into desperation as she let loose a long string of chirps and whistles at her rider in a hopeless attempt to communicate.  
  
"Jocasta is a *friend*," Vincent repeated. "Calm yourself! She'll be riding you."  
  
Mari screamed and snapped and shook her head viciously, and Vincent got the point. He turned to Jocasta and knelt beside her.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"I'll be fine," Jocasta whispered, her voice trembling as Vincent helped her up. "Y-your chocobo - is she always--?"  
  
"I don't know what's wrong," he said helplessly. "She is often cold to others, but never outright hostile. She might be jealous that I left her outside," he added, in an effort to find an explanation. "Let's just go."  
  
Mari warbled, shaking her head, but Vincent didn't see.  
  
-  
  
Seth stopped dead, and looked up.  
  
/What is it?/  
  
'The forest...?' "The forest... It's awake."  
  
/Is it? I can't tell./  
  
"It is..." Seth looked around. His chest felt hot with fear. "It woke up. It's completely normal, it's not even *trying* to confuse me anymore... Masamune, she woke it up."  
  
Masamune let out a low metallic hiss. /Damn her. She couldn't have waited another hour or two... We have to hurry./  
  
Seth nodded and resumed walking, rather faster than before.  
  
-  
  
Stupid beast.  
  
Jocasta seethed quietly, while managing to keep a pleasant face as she and Vincent walked. That damned chocobo had nearly exposed her. She knew she was just *lucky* to have caught the marksman up in her spell as quickly as she had, or Vincent would have had the common sense to listen to his bird and the entire plan would be for naught.  
  
She *needed* him under her command. If he was allowed to think on his own, he would not do any of the things she needed him to do. No other could do this.  
  
Not that she hadn't *thought* about others. Cloud, bless his shattered psyche, had been a lovely puppet - until that bloody *Lifestream* incident. The first fall had rendered him completely useless to anyone, and the second one has resulted in the healing of his fragmented memory. She could feel his mind still - he was still a carrier - but she knew, even if he didn't, that the moment she even *touched* his strings, he would rebel so violently that *Jocasta* didn't trust her mind to be in one piece after he was done. Cloud had not *liked* being a puppet.  
  
Sephiroth had been the perfect tool for her plans. He was as much a part of her as if she had indeed given birth to him, and at the same time very much a child of the Planet. He was the perfect link between her and the Lifestream - it would accept him, but he could tap her power. The inhuman circumstances in which he was raised had made his mind so easy to bend to her will it was laughable - he was a good little boy, and would do anything Mother said.  
  
But even *he* had abandoned her, in the end. His mutated body slain, his spirit only barely clinging to his preserved shell in the Lifestream, he had betrayed her. Instead of waiting, like a good little boy, for Mother to regenerate his godsdamned body for him, he chose to make an end of it. In a last moment of sanity, the stupid boy had called to Cloud. That last duel had severed the last link between Sephiroth's soul and his body, and he was free of her.  
  
Jocasta fought down a rising urge to kill something. She had worked so *hard* to bring him back, with almost the last of her energy - the only reason she could even touch his soul was the bond between him and his sword. Lucrecia, his true mother, had created the sword with her own magic, and bound it to his soul - and this might have shielded him had she herself not been so filled with Jenova's cells. The sword lay delicately balanced between Cetra and Jenova, and it had been the slight taint of Jenova in the blade, bound forever to Sephiroth, that had allowed her to pull him back one more time.  
  
And a great lot of good *that* had done her. Now he was *Seth*. And Seth was as bloody-mindedly determined to *stop* her as Sephiroth had been to *serve* her. She had managed to get to him once, and since then he had apparently learned to block her out, even if Masamune couldn't stop her.   
  
Damned rotten luck.  
  
But Vincent would not turn against her.  
  
Smirking, Jocasta reached out to possessively stroke her latest puppet's hair. He had almost eluded her before, true - but he had scented her before she had taken on Lucrecia's guise, and knew it was her. It had been foolish to take Lucrecia's face anyway, she had been dead for years. But Jocasta Lazare - this was a completely new face to him, sweet and innocent and beautiful in all the ways he most admired. Enough like Lucrecia to dredge up old feelings - different enough to evoke new ones. And the more he dropped his walls for her, the more hers he became.  
  
Brushing her mind against his, she smiled at the snarls and curses flung at her from his other aspects. The Galian Beast clawed and chewed at their mental prison, baying and roaring for her blood. Hellmask revved his chainsaw and spat profanities that would have embarrassed Cid Highwind. Death Gigas hurled himself against the mental walls, crackling with electricity in his agitation. Chaos threatened, screamed, cursed, cajoled, even begged. They were amusing, these four - poor little nightmare angels, so desperate to protect their beloved Vincent, and unable to do so even in the sanctity of his own mind. Galian Beast began to howl, and Hellmask snarled at him to shut up; he wanted Jenova to be able to *hear* what he was calling her.  
  
=You can't help him now,= she told them, withdrawing. Outwardly, she placed her head demurely against Vincent's shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her in response.   
  
=No one can.=  
  
-  
  
The chocobos warbled gratefully as Zair moored the raft, and they were allowed to stand on the firm ground. Gypsum jumped a little bit, cantering in a small circle to stretch her stiff legs. Aerin barely seemed to notice, staring at the forest.  
  
"Hmm?" Zair finished his task and stood up, glancing at Aerin in concern. "What's up?"  
  
"Not much longer," she whispered. Then, shaking her head, she gripped her staff. "Let's go."  
  
-  
  
"Got it."  
  
It was unpleasant to the touch - it prickled, and sent chills running up his forearm, and you could almost feel the hostility coming off it in waves. It wanted to kill.  
  
Seth shivered as he picked the Black Materia up, holding it in his hands. It felt disturbingly light, for its size. He didn't like it.  
  
'So this is it. A pocket-sized Doomsday.'  
  
/Looks harmless enough, doesn't it?/  
  
'It feels bad, though.' Seth shivered. 'Hurts to hold.'  
  
/Then don't hold it,/ Masamune snapped impatiently. /Destroy it. Shatter it now and Jenova can never--/   
  
Silence. Seth felt suddenly cold.  
  
'Masamune?'  
  
/She's here./  
  
"Ah - hello?"  
  
Seth turned around, clutching the Black Materia as though it were a lifeline, though it now burned to the touch. His heart skipped at the sight.  
  
'Oh fucking *shit!!*'  
  
Vincent stood beside the pretty woman that could only be Jenova. His arm was around her shoulders.  
  
"Vincent?" Seth's voice sounded pathetically small and he knew it.  
  
"Hello, Seth." No scolding. No reprimands. No 'you idiot, you could have gotten yourself killed, what in the Planet's name were you thinking?', nothing. Just hello. Seth swallowed painfully.  
  
This wasn't Vincent anymore.  
  
The woman slid out of his grasp like silk and he just stood there, allowing it. His eyes were distant, barely fixed on any point. The woman walked towards Seth and he recoiled.  
  
"What is that you have?" Her voice was misleadingly pleasant, matching her kind face. Seth narrowed his eyes and for a moment he saw the pale blonde hair as white, pale skin as being ocean blue, her velvet cloak a pair of folded fleshy wings--  
  
"You can't have it." His voice was a little too desperate. "It's dangerous. It has to be destroyed."  
  
"But it's a Cetra artifact, isn't it?" The woman looked innocent as she continued to advance. Seth backed further away, edging to the side. He didn't want to be driven away from Vincent - maybe there was still hope for reviving him.   
  
"No," he said, his voice rising. "It's a portable apocalypse, this is the end of the world Materia, if this thing gets used the entire Planet dies and I won't let you use it! You can't have it! You can't!!"  
  
"Seth, give it to her!"  
  
Seth turned, with wide eyes, to face Vincent. He looked *angry*.  
  
'This is what you wanted, Vincent. To fight Jenova. To destroy her. This Materia is her best weapon! She *can't* hurt the Planet without this!'  
  
"No!" In one smooth motion, the Materia was tucked into his bag, and Masamune was in his hand. He held it between him and Vincent, bracing the blade with his left hand, the edge turned downward. "Don't make me do this, Vincent. I don't want to fight me - but if you're hers - I will. I will." His voice quavered, but his hands were steady.  
  
"Give it to her," Vincent hissed. "She's only a scientist. She wants to research it. Give it to her, Seth."  
  
"She's not what you think she is!" Seth yelled. "And you - you're not Vincent anymore! Vincent would want the Black Materia destroyed!"  
  
With a strange inhuman howl, Vincent lunged. Seth struck.  
  
The flat side of Masamune hit Vincent with stunning force, allowing Seth a safe moment to back away.  
  
"I don't want to do this, Vincent!" He ducked under Vincent's charge and brought Masamune up in a sharp arc, knocking Vincent's prosthetic arm aside with a resounding clang and rolling away.  
  
Vincent fought like a wild animal, never once thinking to reach for his gun, only lunging and snarling, baring his teeth as though meaning to devour his kill. Seth fought as he had done only in memories, moving with an inhuman agility he knew had to be borrowed from Sephiroth - and for once he did not resent it.  
  
It might have been a fair fight, between the two of them. One or the other might have eventually triumphed. It may well have been Vincent, but Seth may well have come out the victor.  
  
That was not a risk Jenova could afford to take.  
  
Forgotten in the battle of puppets, of lost son and forgotten father, she lunged.  
  
-  
  
It was amazing, really, how things could change in the span of a second.   
  
One instant Seth's features were locked in a mask of mingled horror, panic, and determined desperation - the next, his mouth fell open in shock and his already pale face drained of any color it had previously had. The force left his stance. He choked.  
  
Caught off guard by this sudden change, Vincent stopped his charge. His gaze flickered downward.  
  
And Jenova's spell left him in a second.  
  
Jocasta pulled her newly formed blade-arm out of the yielding flesh, and Seth cried out, staggering forward and crumpled. Masamune fell uselessly from Seth's hand as he hit the ground. A dark stain spread across Seth's green cloak.  
  
"You," Vincent choked, looking up in horror at Jocasta. She tilted her head and smiled cruelly, disdainfully shaking the blood off her blade-arm.  
  
["Vincent! *Vincent!!*"]  
  
He could hear the screams of his Sephiroth ringing in his ears, and the enraged howls of the Galian Beast as his other aspects burst free from their confinement. More than any of the others, the beast wanted blood.  
  
'Our son!' he heard it bay, even as the transformation began and the line between Vincent Valentine and Galian Beast began to blur. He could feel the horns breaking through his skin, and fur sprouting over his body - his thoughts became less his own, and more those of the beast, until they were one and the same - it no longer mattered who he was, he would *kill* to avenge the death of his child, his precious cub --  
  
-  
  
"Did you hear that?"  
  
"I did!" Aerin spurred Gypsum on desperately. "What was it?!"  
  
"It sounded like the Galian Beast," Zair said, his voice high with worry. "All the time I was watching you and Cloud - whenever Vincent fought with the others, he never let himself transform unless he had to..."  
  
"Yah, Gypsum!" Aerin's voice cracked. "I hope we're not too late...!"  
  
-  
  
The world was fading.  
  
Seth stared at the ground. It seemed like it was getting harder to hear, suddenly - the sound of Vincent's roar reached him as though from a long way off. He was dimly aware that he should be fighting, that he couldn't admit defeat yet...  
  
'Is this what death is like?'  
  
The wound didn't even hurt so much, and as Seth stared vaguely at the same little patch of dirt, it wandered in an out of focus.  
  
'Just a slow fade into the green...'  
  
/Seth.../  
  
'... I can't die yet!'  
  
Slowly, achingly slowly, he pushed himself up onto his knees, and pulled himself to his feet with Masamune. It was getting harder to breathe now, and the world swam as Seth wobbled on his feet.  
  
'Black Materia...'  
  
He reached into his pack, and his hand brushed against the killing orb. It stung, and it was all he could do to draw it out, hissing with pain. It shot up his arm and down his spine and into the raw edges of his wound.  
  
He dropped it on the ground, his hand still aching from the touch, and raised Masamune. If he could do this last thing, then even in death, he would win. The Planet would live on.  
  
A hand grabbed his hair and yanked him viciously back, tossing him aside like a ragdoll. A fresh wave of pain shot through Seth and reminded him he was alive. Turning desperately, he saw Jenova - her true self, all pretense abandoned - with the Black Materia in her hand.  
  
She seemed to sense his gaze, turned, and smiled cruelly.  
  
"So brave!" she said coldly. "With your dying strength, trying to shatter my Materia... A gallant effort, my dear, but you have *lost.*"  
  
Seth wanted to stand, to fight her, to snatch the Materia from her hand and bring Masamune's killing edge down on the evil thing - but as weak as he was, he could only cry out brokenly as Jenova spread her wings and flew away.  
  
-  
  
"*Phoenix!!*"  
  
Aerin jumped off Gypsum almost before bringing the chocobo to a halt, dashing towards the battlefield. Vincent lay at the foot of a tree, battered, unconscious, but not broken; Seth had not been so lucky.  
  
"Oh Phoenix - oh all holy gods, oh Planet, oh good Phoenix, *SETH!!*"  
  
She was at his side in a moment, holding him, propping him up, praying silently that he survive. Seth turned his head weakly to look at her.  
  
"Aerin..."  
  
"Yes, it's me," she choked, stroking his hair. "Oh, Seth, *no*, don't die, not not, please no..."  
  
"Aerin..." He coughed, and his mouth arched in a sad, sad smile. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't you *dare* apologize!" Aerin shrieked. "You will *not* die! I'll-- I have potions, I can--"  
  
A weak, pale, cold hand clutched her wrist. Seth shook his head slowly. "Blood," he whispered. "Lost too much. You know... it won't..."  
  
"It *will* work," Aerin insisted, setting him down for a moment to grab the strongest potion she had from her bag. It took many precious seconds more than she would have liked, but at last she emerged with the vial. Her expression of triumph faded into horror when she saw what Seth was doing.  
  
Trembling, bloodstained fingers had untied the leather thong binding her charm to the hilt of his sword, and held it towards her.  
  
"Seth - no - *no!*"  
  
"Aerin," Seth whispered, his voice thin and weak as he propped himself up, "I promised... not to die... before I gave this back."  
  
"Seth..."  
  
"Take it," he begged. "Broken too many promises... let me keep this one."  
  
Tears streaked down Aerin's eyes as she set the potion aside, tenderly taking the precious charm from Seth's dying fingers.  
  
"Kick J'nova in the shins f'me," Seth slurred, managing a weak grin. "And get the Black Materia... d'stroy it for me. S'the only chance."  
  
Aerin twined her fingers with his, nodding. "I will."  
  
Seth smiled then, a real smile, and squeezed her hand weakly. "'N'don'cry. 'Kay? Wann'see y' smile..."  
  
And on that word, his last breath left him.  
  
Seth Drasil was dead. 


	12. Chapter 12 Princess Guard

Chapter 12 - Princess Guard  
-  
  
A/N: This picks up immediately after the end of chapter 11.   
  
-  
  
"No," Aerin said hoarsely, "no..."  
  
Desperately she stroked his hair, his cold cheek, his lips, as though she could impart life through her fingers. She was aware of speaking, through tears, the same word over and over.   
  
He was dead. He couldn't be dead, not now...  
  
"Seth," she choked. "Seth, you *bastard* - you promised to *live*!!"  
  
Her voice wrenched into a shriek on the last word and suddenly she was screaming, beating his lifeless chest and sobbing, alternately cursing Seth and begging him to draw breath again. Her speech lapsed into broken Cosmo as she cried into the green mantle, moaning words Zair understood without knowing their meaning.  
  
'Oh, Aerin.'  
  
He felt numb as he dismounted from Strife at last, clumsy and awkward as he knelt by Aerin's side. He wanted to touch her, to embrace her, but his arms wouldn't work. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt too tight.  
  
'That was just the way *she* died...'  
  
Aerin pulled herself vaguely upwards, her breath still hitching into sobs. Seth's eyes were still open, unfocused and staring at the sky. Aerin bent down and tenderly kissed her fallen friend, then closed his eyes with trembling fingers.  
  
"Aerin..."  
  
At the sound of Zair's voice, Aerin turned, and fell into his arms, crying into his jacket. Not knowing what to say, or if he should say anything, Zair just held her, stroking her hair and aching to be Zax for her.  
  
-  
  
The Lifestream glowed with a deceptive gentleness, just a few paces away. Zair was sure that the crack hadn't been there before, and grimly remembered the earthquake.  
  
["You see, as long as Jenova exists, the Planet will never be able to fully heal itself."]  
  
He closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly to rid himself of that memory - Cloud standing in Professor Gast's abandoned house, looking into the past...  
  
'This is *not* the fucking time for that,' he admonished himself, pulling Aerin slightly closer. She barely responded.  
  
The setting sun shot blood-red through the ethereal forest, surreal and dark - and more than a little sad. Vincent had disappeared into the trees a few moments earlier, bearing Seth's body in his arms and instructing Aerin and Zair to remain behind. The faintest rustle of leaves announced his return, and Zair looked up.   
  
Vincent blended in perfectly, the sunset staining him red from head to toe. His face, pale and gaunt beneath his black hair, gave him the look of Hades bearing a lost soul. He was accompanied by a black chocobo that was not Mari, who Zair eventually recognized as Zion. The bird was crestfallen - his head was lowered, his feathers drooping, grey eyes unspeakably sad. He sank to a nesting position as Vincent knelt.   
  
When tame chocobos chose riders, they chose for life, and would never leave their rider's side.  
  
Seth himself looked trapped halfway between death and life - every speck of blood had been cleaned off his clothes, and there was no trace of his wound - 'a Cure spell? cast *after* the fact? Valentine, did you have to be so *fucking* sentimental?' - and his face, with his lips still frozen upwards in a faint smile, was entirely too pale, yet looked as though he might open his eyes at any minute, and sit up in Vincent's arms, and laugh the entire funeral off.  
  
Vincent paused, as though searching for words, for a long moment before he leaned forward and lowered Seth into the glowing green stream. As Seth's face disappeared below the surface, Zion threw his head back and let out a long, high, sorrowful warble. Vincent absently petted him, once, and then stood. He took a small, thin cylinder from his belt that was not a bullet, and loaded it into Death Penalty. Raising the rifle to the sky, he fired once, and there was a small explosion of light in the sky.  
  
"This is the end of the first day," he said, his voice sounding frighteningly like Sephiroth's before his days of madness - cold, dead, devoid of any human soul. "In two days, if we have not defeated Jenova, Faris will call AVALANCHE. These flares are to signify that I am still alive and in control of myself, and that we are still capable of fighting. If I do not fire these flares at sunset, Faris will call AVALANCHE. If I die before then, do not presume to signal for me. Let her call them."  
  
He took the sheathed Masamune (in its shock, the living sword had apparently consented to take another hand long enough to be sheathed) from where it was strapped at Zion's side, and jabbed it into the ground beside the green stream. Next he removed his scarlet cape, draping it around the base of the sword. The sun finally sank over the horizon as he turned away, a shadow of a man. Zion curled by the crude gravemarker, cooing sadly. Gypsum and Strife warbled sympathetically between themselves.  
  
Vincent raised his hand to his mouth once more, letting out a piercing whistle and stepping over the luminous green stream to wait for his chocobo. Without his cape, he looked remarkably frail.  
  
"Aerin," Zair said gently, squeezing her shoulder, only to have her slide out of his grip and walk to the small gravesite. Her hands trembled as she tied the Phoenix charm back around the hilt of the Masamune.  
  
"Vincent," she said, her head bowed, voice thin and hollow, "where do we go from here?"  
  
Vincent looked up.  
  
"North," he said softly, reaching out to take Mari's reins as she finally came to him, seeming more wary than before. "It's alright, I have my own mind back," he added, to reassure Mari. He swung up onto her back, his red eyes dim beacons in the darkness.  
  
"The Cetra's city is not far from here - an hour's travel, perhaps, by chocobo. Jenova left the Lunar Harp behind, so if we need to cross back through here, we will have a way. The way is dangerous, but the city itself should be safe. We can rest there."  
  
"What about Jenova, then?" Zair put in angrily. "*She's got the Black Materia.* Are we just gonna let her summon Meteor while we sleep?"  
  
"She can't."  
  
Zair turned, incredulous, to face Aerin.  
  
"What?"  
  
"She can't do it," Aerin said, shaking her head. "The Planet won't accept her. She can't draw power from the Lifestream of this world to use the Black Materia. She needs a pawn to do it for her." She raised her head. "She can wait all she wants, but as long as she can force nobody to obey her, the Planet is safe."  
  
She turned suddenly to Vincent.  
  
"Don't give up."  
  
He coolly returned her gaze. "Nor you."  
  
"I won't." Her face was pained, but her voice was strong. "For Seth, I won't. Not until Jenova is dead and her Black Materia destroyed. That is my promise."  
  
"We've made the same promise, then." He shook Mari's reins, and she started to move forward. As she walked by Aerin, Vincent spoke again. "Let's hope at least one of us can keep it."  
  
And he moved on. Aerin stood in silence for a moment, then mounted Gypsum and followed, leaving Zair, Strife, and Zion alone at the gravesite.  
  
The feathers on Aerin's charm fluttered in the breeze. Masamune stood, a lonely sentinel. It seemed terribly fitting, the union of the charm and the sword. Zair remembered Aerin's tearful farewell kiss, and the way she had dashed to his side as he lay dying, and the way they had lingered together outside Mideel...  
  
["I don't know if I am your flower girl any more."]  
  
Zair smiled sadly, understanding.  
  
'You loved him, didn't you? Alright.... I understand, Aerin.'  
  
He moved towards the gravesite, pulling a penknife from his pocket and pricking his finger with the sharp tip. Carefully, he set the small wound against the knot where the charm was tied to the sword's hilt.  
  
'A gift. For my phoenix and her paladin.'  
  
When he was satisfied that the knot was properly sealed, he drew his hand away, wiping the residual blood off on his pants and flipping the knife closed again. He bent down to scratch Zion's head and murmur a few words of encouragement, before he mounted Strife and rode after his two companions.  
  
-  
  
The sky was clear, and the stars were out in full force, their light just bright enough to give vague details of the city ahead. The chocobos moved nervously, single file, down the winding shell path, picking each step with excruciating care to be sure they didn't slip. Vincent was barely visible ahead of her - black-haired, black-clad, mounted on a black chocobo, he looked like some kind of wraith. This was not helping Aerin's already fragile state of mind.  
  
If she closed her eyes, she could see Seth's dying smile, could feel how cold his fingers were around hers, could hear the way he slurred his last words. She could see him smiling once more, that sad, sad smile, as he held her on a day when she thought she would never see another sunrise. She remembered wishing that she could have made his smile real, could have made him laugh despite his past.  
  
'He died so *uselessly*...' The darkness in front of Aerin blurred, and she blinked to clear it. Her eyes were wet with tears. 'He could have *lived*... and lived *long*...'  
  
The city had no gates, no walls, only a tiny bridge around a crystalline moat. The chocobos moved more easily now, sensing that the ground was safer here. Zair trotted Strife up beside Aerin and Gypsum.  
  
"Hey," he said gently. It was the first word to be spoken since the funeral.  
  
"Hey," she said listlessly back.  
  
"Aerin - uh - I -" Zair hunted uselessly for words for a moment, and then gave up, hanging his head. "I'm sorry."  
  
"So am I." She stared ahead, not turning to face him.  
  
"I mean, I know - he was a great guy," Zair babbled on, desperate to fill the silence with words. "Though I didn't exactly know him for very long - not like you - but - uh-"  
  
"Zair," she said, her voice small and thin, "shut up."  
  
Zair bowed his head, sighed, and rode ahead.  
  
Ahead in the near distance, Aerin saw Vincent dismount and tether Mari at the gate of a particular shell house, Zair following suit. They disappeared into the door, two small, dark shapes melting into shadow.   
  
When Aerin reached the door, she lingered outside, looking at the stars. If she looked hard enough, she could see where the new moon rested in the sky.  
  
-  
  
Zair stared at the ceiling. Sleep was not going to come easily tonight.  
  
Seth had not deserved to die, and had especially not deserved to die *that way* - stabbed from behind, unable to even see it coming, it was a monstrously unfair death, and they always said a belly wound was one of the worst ways to die -  
  
'- and I've seen two people die that way already.'  
  
He had let himself be brought back to *prevent* this. To stay by Sephiroth's side, to keep him sane, keep him human, and above all keep him *alive.* And that had been a vastly successful endeavour, hadn't it?  
  
'Fuck. Sixteen years on opposite sides of the Planet, and then when we actually meet, he dies.'  
  
'And Aerin...'  
  
He tried not to think about it, laying an arm over his eyes. Aerin. Beautiful Aerin, smiling, brave, fiery Aerin -   
  
Aerith could be dangerous, when roused to anger. Gentle, sweet, playful most of the time, but when provoked, she possessed an almost ancient rage, and Zax had pitied anyone who pissed her off. That fire was in Aerin yet, burning as brightly as ever.  
  
God, how many nights had he lain awake, a small child, remembering the soft lines of Aerith's stance and the curve of her smile and the light in her eyes and the way her hair fell around her face and slid against her skin when she tilted her head - remembering and loving and longing and pining and missing her so much and crying into his pillow how sorry, how very unbelievably sorry he was that he had never come back from his last mission, had never been able to hold her that last time, never been able to keep her from dying, never been able to stand beside her in death?   
  
Zax's body had died, that day outside Midgar. His thoughts, his memories, his feelings - they never had.  
  
He had *never* expected Aerith to be alive again, let alone remember him - but there she had been, in Mideel, whispering a dead name, and he had loved her so much in that moment... He *wanted* to love her, for her to love him, to feel that once more...  
  
But even he could admit now that it was a useless dream. He had tried not to believe it when he watched them, standing outside Mideel saying their goodbyes. He had tried not to hear the way Aerin had spoken about Seth, had tried to believe that they *could* be Aerith and Zax again. The flower girl and her SOLDIER.  
  
He couldn't deny it any more. Whether Aerin would admit it, or quite realized it yet, she had been in love with Seth - or at least in the process of falling.  
  
Zair rolled over in the dusty old bed, shoving his face into the pillow.  
  
'No. You will not. You will fucking NOT feel sorry for *yourself*, you do not have any fucking *right* to feel sorry for yourself...'  
  
Aerin was the one who deserved pity and sympathy, not him - Aerin who had loved Seth, Aerin who was now bereft and *yet still went on*, and for Seth would see her mission through. Zair who loved the memory of a flower girl and wanted, so badly, for the phoenix to become the flower, deserved none.  
  
'You had no reason, or right, to even *expect* that Aerith would be reincarnated, and when she was, you had no right to expect that she would just run happily into your arms and it would all be fucking peachy again...'  
  
In an explosion of motion, he sat up and viciously threw off the sheets. Sighing heavily, he leaned forward onto his knees and looked around inside the shell house.  
  
A faint red glow from one side told him that Vincent wasn't sleeping either, and a careful listen to the other side revealed that Aerin wasn't even in bed yet. He got to his feet, taking the Hardedge from behind his bed, and headed down towards the door.  
  
Strife, Gypsum, and Mari were huddled down beside the shell wall, heads under their wings. Zair looked at the small group for a minute, sighing. Poor Zion.  
  
"Aerin?" he called quietly.   
  
There was no response. He tried again, a bit louder. The chocobos stirred this time, but Aerin did not call back. Hoping fervently she had had the sense to at least stay inside the city, he glanced over at the chocobos. Strife gave him a miffed warble and curled pointedly back up, Mari gave him a look that clearly said 'You are an idiot, and I hope you fall off a small cliff and hit your head for disturbing my sleep when my life already sucks' and followed Strife. Gypsum just looked around, blinking tiredly.  
  
"Hey, Gypsum." Zair crouched by the black. "Have you seen Aerin?"  
  
Gypsum warbled weakly and gestured vaguely with her wing before yawning and closing her eyes again. Zair looked in the general direction she had pointed. It led rather ominously to the heart of the city.  
  
'Oh, no. You did not go back *there.*'  
  
He untied Strife and shook the gold slightly, earning an irritated chirp and a nip on the hand for his trouble.  
  
"Stop it," Zair said, swatting the bird's beak lightly. "I've got to catch up to Aerin, so wake up. I'll let you sleep in a bit."  
  
Strife allowed himself to be mounted with the most long-suffering look of injured pride Zair had ever seen a chocobo wear, and seemed highly reluctant to go beyond a trot. It was nevertheless faster than walking.  
  
-  
  
He found her shoes neatly set aside at the end of the long, thin pass (which Strife had refused point-blank to be ridden through, driving Zair to take it on foot), and Aerin herself standing at the shore of the lake.  
  
A small, slow tide rolled in around her bare ankles. In the faint blue light, the source of which Zair couldn't see, she wrapped her arms around herself as though to keep something inside. She turned slightly, her long dark hair sliding against her back.  
  
Her hands moved to her orange cloth belt and quickly undid the knots, casting off her multi-colored skirt. There, standing in only her loose white shirt and her short leather pants, she dived into the lake.  
  
Zair was aware of dashing forward, uselessly shouting her name, as though that would brind her back to the surface, and of stopping dumbly at the shore, watching the small dark shape swim awkwardly through the clear water.   
  
'She can't swim,' Zair thought frantically, watching the ungraceful flailing of dusky limbs beneath the water's surface. Without thinking, he shed his jacket and dove in after her.  
  
The water was icy cold, worse than the ocean at night, and Zair kicked frantically to reach Aerin, who was doing her level best to get to the bottom. Her movements were starting to slow, evidence that the chill water was already sapping her strength. She resisted only weakly as Zair wrapped strong arms around her and kicked towards the surface.  
  
"What were you *doing*?!" Zair demanded the moment they broke the surface, pulling Aerin towards the shore as she gasped weakly. "This is the North Continent for Titan's sake - it's *cold* up here-"  
  
"My s-staff," Aerin gasped, shivering as Zair sat her down on the bank. "Ae-Aerith's st-staff--"  
  
Zair wrapped his jacket around her, aware as he did so that it wouldn't be nearly enough. He had already reached into his pants pockets before he realized that any form of kindling he might be lucky enough to find in them would already be sodden. And she - we, he thought, noticing how his teeth were chattering - needed a lot of warmth very fast.  
  
"Damn it - come on, let's get back to the house, we'll f-freeze if we stay out here - S-Strife!"  
  
Grabbing Aerin's skirt and helping the chilled girl to her feet, he stumbled through the pass again, shooting Strife a murderous glare as he helped Aerin onto his back.  
  
"Damn bird, going through that pass wouldn't have killed you," he muttered viciously before swinging up onto the bird's back. Strife snapped irritably at him, but made due haste to the shell-house. For that Zair was grateful.  
  
-  
  
'Useless.'  
  
Vincent stared upward through the red glare of his own eyes, staring at the ceiling, staring into memories.  
  
'I failed him, completely. Twice.'  
  
In death, Seth's face had borne a disturbing, unsettling resemblance to another's. It had been hard to face the pale skin, the faint smile, without remembering...  
  
'... white as snow, because Hojo never let him outside until he was *how* old? Certainly not while I was with him... the way he smiled, so slight, almost afraid that he would be slapped for it... but when he smiled, he meant it...'  
  
The childish lines of Seth's face, so much like that of the young Sephiroth...  
  
Because of Vincent's incompetence, that face would never strengthen, never bear the features of a grown man... because Vincent had been so weak as to let Jenova in, Seth would never again come home, would never marry, never have children... his mother would forever be at home, waiting in vain for her son to return, until Vincent came to deliver the news...  
  
'I am the bearer of death. I break everything I touch, everything I love. I loved Lucrecia and she withered. I loved Sephiroth and he shattered.  
  
'.... I loved Seth, and he rode alone to his death, because *I could not stop him...*'  
  
His hand traced the cold lines of Death Penalty in something close to a lover's caress. Lucrecia's final legacy. The gun, like Masamune, drew its strength from blood. It was as steeped in death as its wielder. He had always had his suspicions as to how Lucrecia had come by this gun...  
  
'...that, perhaps, she did not come by it at all...'  
  
She had wanted, so badly, to die... and when they had crossed paths again, in the cavern...  
  
His senses were far keener after the years he spent in Hojo's clutches, and he remembered the way Lucrecia smelled - human yet, but with the foul taint of Jenova... and something else... something that smelled like...  
  
'Aerith. Lucrecia was half Cetra... if only I had known, at the beginning, of her heritage and her desire... known the truth about Jenova...'  
  
She had wanted *so badly* to completely assume her Cetra heritage, to take on her father's blood... and believing that Jenova was a Cetra, how easy it must have seemed to her...  
  
'She was too human for Jenova to kill her... but the Cetra in her blood withered at the virus's touch... she would *never* recover, and she knew that... and she had come to hate herself, for damning her son to his father's hands... for not being his mother...'  
  
Even the gun's sharp metal-scent smelled of human blood, and decay, and of something else entirely... something holy...  
  
It had been Lucrecia's own death penalty, for the sins she could never atone for.  
  
She had left him a gun - fashioned by Cetra magic from her own body.   
  
'May she rest peacefully in the Lifestream, undisturbed, forever...' He closed his eyes, wishing for tears, but his eyes remained dry. 'And now she can finally hold her son...'  
  
-  
  
Zair could barely feel his legs as he dismounted from Strife, and was aware that Aerin's shivering wasn't as intense as before. If they didn't get a fire or something soon, they would...  
  
"Vincent!" he cried, rather than think about the looming possibility. "Hey, V-Vincent!"  
  
-  
  
The small fire blazed merrily on the floor. Zair and Aerin's shadows chased each other around the curved walls of the shell-house in time with the flickering flames. Their wet clothes discarded along with any sense of modesty, the two teenagers huddled desperately around the fire, bedsheets draped over their shoulders to shield their backs from the cold, while leaving their fronts open to the fire's warmth. Vincent sat again on his bed in the shadows, having hung the sodden clothes from a rafter to dry.  
  
"Midnight on the North Continent is not a good time or place to swim," he intoned coldly towards his young charges.  
  
"N-not my fault," Zair shivered. "Had to s-save Aerin--"  
  
"I was l-looking for the s-staff," she returned weakly.  
  
"That's not e-even where they p-put it!" Zair snapped, pulling the bedsheet around to cover himself. "Sh-should've asked someone who was t-there-- the *hell* is so important about this staff anyway--"  
  
Aerin opened her mouth and left it there for a moment, searching desperately for words to convey the urgency of what she had felt, before she finally gave up and wrapped all the way up in the bedsheet as Zair had, inching closer to the fire. A long silence passed between the two, and it wasn't until their hair had nearly dried and their shivers had mostly subsided that Aerin finally spoke.  
  
"It was her staff," she said quietly. "A Cetra weapon, made just for her - like Ultima Weapon for Cloud, and Limited Moon for Nanaki.... don't ask me who made it, or how they knew she would claim it... even she didn't understand how the Cetra knew what they did... but the *point* is it was hers, and it's filled with the power of the Planet, and - and mine's just wood, Jenova could break it with a snap of her fingers and then where would I be?"  
  
"Minus a staff," Zair said dully, "but if you're really the Planet's weapon--"  
  
"I need a weapon of my own to fight for the Planet, Zair!" Aerin snapped. "What am I supposed to do, *kick* Jenova to death?"  
  
"Could work," Zair said, brightening slightly as he imagined it.  
  
"You said *yourself* she's unkillable. Well, she can't be *completely* unkillable, right? A wood staff won't do anything to her, but a Cetra staff, filled with the Planet's power... it just *might.*"  
  
Zair locked eyes with her for a moment, then looked down into the fire, shrugging. "I guess you could be right."  
  
"You don't believe I can do it, do you?"  
  
The accusation drew blood. Zair refused to look up.  
  
"I don't really believe in much of anything anymore."  
  
Aerin was silent for a moment, looking down into the fire.  
  
"Where's the staff, Zair?"  
  
"It's at the altar." Zair scratched the back of his neck. "Nobody brought it up when... you know. Left it there. A memorial, I guess."  
  
Aerin stood, the bedsheet billowing softly from the movement and the heat of the fire. Turning towards her bed, she spoke. "Then I'll go there... tomorrow. And I'll give you something to believe in."  
  
Surprised, Zair scrambled to his feet as well. "But - it's where you-"  
  
She glanced over her shoulder, dark hair sliding against the curves of her dark face, and smiled, a little sadly. "Sephiroth's not going to come down and stab me again, Zair. Even if he could now, I know he wouldn't."   
  
She settled into her bed, pulling the blankets up over her head. Zair shook his head slowly, and reached his hand out to rest on her shoulder, pulling it back at the last moment. Despite everything, he found himself smiling.  
  
"Alright. Tomorrow."  
  
-  
  
Zair awoke the next morning to find Aerin and her chocobo gone. He had a moment of panic before Vincent, already long awake, calmly pointed out that the girl's supplies were still by her bed, and that she would hardly be so stupid as to strike out on her own without potions. They cooked breakfast at the mouth of the shell-house, and it was at dawn, with the warm smell of food in the air, when she returned.  
  
Zair was taking a second portion of the fried bacon (or whatever it was - Vincent had hunted the thing down and neatly shredded it before Zair had even woken up, and he wasn't particularly inclined to ask what it had been) when he heard Vincent's deadpan voice saying "I see you found it."  
  
Zair looked up then, mouth filled with fresh maybe-bacon, and stared dumbly.   
  
He had forgotten, in sixteen years, the precise lines of Aerith's staff, the particular shape of the emblem atop the golden rod, and seeing it now was actually something of a shock.  
  
It evoked the shape of a phoenix, wings outstretched, with a large ruby in the very center, where the bird's heart would be. Fitting perfectly to Aerin's height and the delicate dark fingers that curled around it, it looked more natural and right than anything he had ever seen. And Aerin was smiling, small and hesitant, but it reached all the way to her eyes and damned if it wasn't the most beautiful thing Zair could imagine.  
  
She noticed his gaze, tilted her head, and grinned at him, and his heart stopped to see Aerith in that smile as she sank to her knees and took her portion of the breakfast.  
  
"What's with all this, Vincent?" she asked, turning to face the sniper. "We never had this much to eat on the road..."  
  
"You'll need your strength," Vincent said quietly. "We all will. You cannot fight Jenova on an empty stomach."  
  
And he smiled, just a little.  
  
Maybe it was the indulgence in the abundant breakfast, or the way Aerin seemed somehow brighter and happier with the Princess Guard in hand, or the eastern light and the last of the lingering stars - but somehow, thinking ahead to the battle with Jenova, Zair felt more hope than fear.  
  
- 


	13. Chapter 13 Memento Mori

Chapter 13 - Memento Mori  
  
-  
  
A/N: YES finally it's done. ::cries with joy:: And I don't know WHY IN THE NAME OF HEAVEN AND EARTH I uploaded that incomplete version. I really really don't. I cannot believe how stupid that was. But this is the complete version, honest! Sorry about that X_X  
  
This chapter has been pure pain to write, because for a long time I haven't known what to do with it. But finally, here it is. We're getting closer to the end. o_o  
  
The events of this chapter happen at the same time as those of chapter 12.   
  
-  
  
Seth wasn't quite sure what he had expected after death, but he'd kind of figured it would be more dramatic than this.  
  
He knew that you were supposed to go back to the Planet when your time was up, but he had never been really clear on how that worked. He'd actually been hoping for something a little more exciting - angelic chorus, maybe a ride of Valkyries, or at the very least a long tunnel with a light at the end.   
  
There had been none of that. The cessation of life had been amazingly seamless and undramatic.  
  
So much so, in fact, that Seth had actually failed to notice the moment of his own death.   
  
"No," he heard Aerin whisper in a choked voice. "No..."  
  
The change in her expression puzzled and dismayed him. All he had said was 'I want to see you smile', although admittedly it had been rather slurred... but he'd gotten the message across, hadn't he?  
  
"Aerin?" He blinked quietly at her. "I'm not dead yet..."  
  
She didn't seem to pay any attention to him. She had started crying and stroking his face, whispering "no" over and over again, and finally his name. Seth opened his mouth to speak again, but the words left him as Aerin screamed.  
  
"Seth, you *bastard* - you promised to *live*!!"  
  
And she was pounding on his chest and that was when Seth finally noticed that he wasn't breathing, when her fists brought no pain or really any sensation at all, and of all the ways Seth could have imagined to die, this was the cruellest.  
  
Did this happen to everyone else? A last few moments of consciousness before fading away, just enough time to see your loved ones mourning? Or worse, if you died alone, time to reflect on the loneliness of your passing? Was this the only reward you got after life?  
  
"Aerin!" He sat up, desperate to be heard, not to die alone in this horrible clarity, and he looked down and saw his brand-new ghostly form lifting itself out of his physical body. Horrified, he turned around and he saw his face, with the blank stare and faint smile of the newly dead, and he screamed and leapt away, which only made it worse. Now he could see his entire blood-soaked corpse and Aerin shaking and sobbing into his mantle, crying in Cosmo --  
  
"Aerin, listen! Please! Can't you hear me at all?!" He reached for her, but his hands passed through her shoulders. "I'm still here! That's not me anymore, that's - that's just - Aerin, LOOK AT ME!"  
  
It was useless, he knew it was useless, but as long as he was talking, moving, doing anything, he didn't have to concentrate on the fact that he was dead, and that he'd never again see the Nibel mountains or smell the winter wildflowers or hear his mother's voice or take Aerin's small callused hand in his, and he'd never find out what it was like to kiss, or wake up in the morning with a ring on his finger and the memory of freshly-sealed wedding vows--  
  
Zair had dismounted from his chocobo, and knelt by Aerin's side. Seth could only sit numbly and watch as Aerin pulled herself upwards, then bowed down again and--  
  
He could have cried for the unfairness of it, watching the healer's soft brown lips press against the still lips of his corpse (his corpse, *his*), and her small thin fingers close his eyes one last time. He would never know how that would have felt...  
  
She threw herself, sobbing, into Zair's embrace, and Seth shook his head, dragging one ghostly hand across his face in grief.   
  
It wasn't fair. He'd promised to live - he'd *promised* he'd make it back home. Now he was dead, and he hadn't even accomplished anything before he died... all he'd done was let everyone down...  
  
Seth buried his head in his hands and shook with silent tears.  
  
-  
  
"Vincent?"  
  
The light was starting to change, and Vincent gave no indication that he had heard the quiet voice calling his name. He just sat, as motionless as -   
  
Seth sighed, and shook his head. Well, of course. What had he expected? Aerin couldn't hear him, Zair couldn't hear him, what had made him think Vincent would?  
  
'Just because he's not *completely* human, I guess I thought... maybe he'd notice, just a little bit...'  
  
"Vincent, I'm sorry." Hopeless, of course, but it felt good to talk. Soon after he had regained his composure, he had found to his horror that Masamune had fallen silent. He had called and called to the sword, begging, praying for even the slightest response - but there was nothing. That presence in the back of his mind had gone dark.   
  
Masamune had been dormant ever since Sephiroth's death, he'd realized. It hadn't awakened until Seth had seen that portrait, and read the sword's name...  
  
With Seth's death, it had become useless. Robbed of its only purpose - the protection of its wielder - and unable to be wielded by any other hand, the sword had allowed itself to fall dormant.   
  
"Why did you give in to her?" Words, directed at anyone, helped to try and fill the emptiness where Masamune's harsh metallic voice should have been. "Why didn't you fight her?"  
  
Vincent's head bowed a little more, black hair sliding over his red cloak. He looked as though he would break at a touch - if he hadn't already broken. Seth reached out on an impulse, only to watch his hand pass directly through Vincent's shoulder.   
  
And suddenly, he was angry.  
  
"I didn't need any help, you know," he said hotly, drawing his hand back and making a fist. "Masamune was leading me through. I didn't *need* you to come running in to save me! If you'd just stayed on the Tycoon with Faris, I'd have destroyed the Black Materia by now and it would all be fine! But *you* had to be the knight in shining armor, didn't you, and you walked right into Jenova's arms! If she hadn't gotten you then I wouldn't have had to fight you and then I wouldn't be DEAD! It's your fault I'm dead, Vincent!!"  
  
His words left no sound, not even an echo, but they somehow managed to hang coldly in the air. Vincent put his head in his hands and his shoulders trembled, just a little bit. One hand came down to gently stroke Seth's hair. The silence dragged on, and Seth, watching the shattered man, felt lower with every passing second.  
  
It was hard to blame Vincent. He did so himself more than anyone else ever could, and believed it. If you'd asked him why Lucrecia fell, he'd say "Because I couldn't help her." He wouldn't think to say "Because she, like a lot of people, got in over her head with Jenova and didn't realize it was bad news until it was too late to get out."  
  
Couldn't. That was a big thing with Vincent. He would blame himself for lacking the ability to help someone, and it was ridiculous because it was like... it was like a chocobo blaming itself because it couldn't fly. It was more than ridiculous, it was tragic. He held himself personally responsible for Sephiroth's birth, Lucrecia's ruin, and if he'd known Cloud as a young man he'd probably blame himself for the swordsman's mental problems too.  
  
And here was Seth blaming him for something *else* when (as he forced himself to realize) it was more his own stupid fault than anyone else's for running off in the first place.   
  
"....sorry. That was cold." Seth closed his eyes. "No, you didn't kill me. I killed me. I should have stayed put. I should have gone into Bone when I had the chance. I should have destroyed the Black Materia faster. I'm sorry, Vincent."  
  
"I'm sorry, Seth."  
  
That was so unexpected that Seth nearly fell over.  
  
"What? Oh, no, you didn't HEAR me, did you?!"  
  
"I shouldn't have ever followed you... or else I should never have let you go..."  
  
"You did hear me, didn't you?"  
  
"I was a terrible excuse for a father."  
  
"Vincent, if you CAN hear me, it's not your - father?"  
  
Seth blinked. Vincent leaned forward, his hair fell around his face, one red eye was uncovered -   
  
- and Seth gave a little scream as something came together.  
  
"You were the man in blue!!"  
  
The memory from the Tycoon burst across his awareness, and suddenly he was seeing Vincent across decades. The Vincent from more than forty years ago, with tangled hair and a dingy blue suit and a claw so new it hadn't had time to tarnish, was abruptly as real as the same man sitting before him...  
  
He stared as Vincent took out Master Magic and set to work on the corpse. Sephiroth's memories flitted across his mind, helpfully telling him that the spell being used was, in fact, a cure spell of the third level. Seth took it in, and sat numbly, watching Vincent work.  
  
'He's preparing my body for a funeral.'  
  
The horrible, rough-edged wound had faded into little more than a thin scar tracing down his abdomen. Vincent inspected the mark, nodded approvingly, and began to take Seth's cape and bloodstained shirt off. Seth cringed in embarrassment as he watched.  
  
'Okay, now that is just pathetic...'  
  
He'd never really been self-conscious about his body while he was in it. Now, viewing it from outside, he wanted to die again of humiliation. He wasn't *really* that scrawny, was he? Gods, there was nothing to him at all but skin and bones with a few quasi-developed muscles in between. It made him wonder how he'd ever managed to lift Masamune, let alone think he could do battle with Jenova.  
  
'It's because I can't change it anymore, isn't it...'  
  
As that depressing thought sank in, Seth turned away from his now half-stripped body to see what Vincent was doing.  
  
Cape and shirt had been laid out on the ground, and were now being methodically coated in ice. Layer after layer of frigid crystal covered the fabric, the process underscored by Vincent's low incantations. After about seven layers, the incantation abruptly changed, and Seth was startled to see fire licking across the surface of the ice, forcing it to melt rapidly.   
  
This having been accomplished, Vincent pulled a bar of soap out of his pack.  
  
Seth had never seen anyone wash clothes this way before. As Vincent repeated the procession of spells on the well-lathered clothes, the watching ghost was so interested he momentarily forgot he was dead.  
  
'Why didn't he ever teach me that trick?'  
  
Vincent finally shook out the sodden, blood-free clothes, and dried them with the most controlled fire spell Seth had ever seen. And then he turned back to put them on Seth's body, and the realization of death hit Seth over the head again.  
  
He sighed and stood up, walking to Vincent's side and watching as the gunman clothed him again.  
  
"You're trying to atone, aren't you?" he asked softly, crouching. "You really think it's your fault for what happened to me."  
  
Vincent carefully scooped Seth's lifeless body into his arms and stood up. Seth rose to his feet, walking alongside the black-haired man. His eyes flickered down to his own limp body, cradled delicately in Vincent's arms, and then back up to the man's solemn face.  
  
"Vincent... thanks."  
  
-  
  
Standing a little ways away from Aerin and Zair, Seth absently wondered how many other people hung around long enough to witness their own funerals.  
  
He wanted to stay. He wanted to be by Aerin's side until the very end. He wanted to be there to see Jenova's defeat, the victory of all the Planet. He wanted to look her in the eyes in the moment of death and say; despite everything you've done to us, we still won.   
  
He wanted to go home before he faded, see his mother, and sit under the rowan tree in their backyard and climb Mt. Nibel one last time, and then he would have been happy to move on.   
  
But it was becoming a struggle to stay. He wanted to be with Aerin and Vincent and Zair, but the Lifestream called to him, promising peace and rest. It was getting harder to say no.  
  
Zion had met them halfway, as Vincent bore Seth's body back to the Lifestream crack. The big chocobo hadn't made a sound, just nuzzled the body, nipped gently at the hair for old times' sake, and then accompanied Vincent back to the funeral site. It wasn't until he had watched the empty shell sink into the Lifestream that he had made any sound at all.  
  
Aerin seemed to have quietly dammed up her tears, using them as fuel for some kind of inner strength. She had never seemed quite so small, or so frail - but something behind her voice suggested that she wasn't ready to break. The fire burned slow, but it would burn bright.  
  
It was hard not to be proud of her, really. Even with the way things were now, Seth couldn't hold back a warm smile as she spoke.   
  
As Vincent rode off, Aerin stood still for a short time. For a moment, Seth just watched.  
  
This would, he realized, be the last time he ever saw her like this. Maybe they would meet in the Lifestream, but that day would be hopefully far away, and Aerin would no longer be the small young woman he saw now...  
  
"Aerin."  
  
Did she cock her head, as he spoke and stepped forward? Just a little bit, as if she had heard something so faint she didn't even realize she was hearing it?  
  
Stopping in front of her, he looked at her for a long moment, trying to memorize her image. Gently, knowing she wouldn't feel it, he reached out as if to tip up her chin -  
  
And she raised her head.  
  
The thinnest of sounds, tiny and sibilant, escaped her - she had mouthed his name.  
  
There was no way to be sure that she was aware of him at all. But for a moment, Seth dared to hope.  
  
He leaned forward.  
  
There was no true substance to the kiss - if he leaned forward any more, he would fall right through her - but she closed her eyes for just a second, and that made it seem real.  
  
"Don't forget me," he whispered, pulling back.   
  
Aerin's hand raised slightly, as though meaning to touch her lips, but stopped and curled into a fist. She shook her head slightly and turned away, mounting Gypsum and riding after Vincent.  
  
Seth smiled, closed his eyes, and stepped backwards into the stream.  
  
-  
  
He opened his eyes some unknown time later, and found himself staring at a green sky.  
  
He turned his head slightly. There was the hiss of sand grains shifting. A warm tide lapped at his feet.  
  
After a moment, he realized he was lying in shadow. He tilted his head back, and saw a woman in a labcoat smiling down at him through half-moon glasses.  
  
"Hi," he said. It somehow seemed better than "Where am I?" or "Who are you?"  
  
"Hi," the woman returned, and extended her arm. "Need some help?"  
  
Seth blinked and took her arm, letting himself be helped to his feet. A little bit confused, he looked around.  
  
"Am I still dead?"  
  
The woman laughed a little bit. "If not, you're in the wrong place."  
  
Seth looked over his shoulder. The pale green sky faded into a green sea, which was rolling up gently on the beach.   
  
"Um. This is..."  
  
"The Lifestream," the woman supplied helpfully.  
  
"Well, yeah, but..." Seth trailed off. "I didn't think it'd be like this," he finished weakly.  
  
"For a lot of people, it isn't." She shook her head, becoming serious. "For them, it's just peace. No worries, no fears or pain... just endless rest and warmth. This place is different."  
  
Seth looked at her, then out at the green ocean. "So what is it? An island?"  
  
"More or less." The woman nodded. "But not really. An island would be a solid mass. This place is part of the stream. It flows."  
  
Seth looked down. The grains of sand seemed pretty stationary to him. He knelt down and took a handful, letting it trickle through his fingers.  
  
"It doesn't *look* like it flows."  
  
She chuckled. "It does, but it's complicated. As Mako flows through, our will causes it to take the shape of the island, and then it moves on. And then more Mako comes through, and it happens all over again. It all happens so quickly, we can't sense the transition." She shrugged and grinned. "Basically, we're all a bunch of stubborn asses who have accepted death, but rejected the final rest, and the Lifestream just kind of humors us."  
  
Seth stood and looked at her for a long time, and finally shrugged. "Okay. Makes sense, I guess."  
  
She laughed softly and ruffled his hair. "I'm sorry, I'm being rude today. I haven't even introduced myself and I'm already here explaining the mechanics to you. My name is Lucrecia Catori. I used to be a biologist, but now I'm something of a guide for newcomers like you."   
  
Seth nodded and extended his hand. "I'm Seth Drasil from Nibelheim."  
  
Lucrecia, taking his hand, abruptly stopped. "What did you say?"  
  
He blinked. "Seth Drasil. Why are you looking at me like that?"  
  
She was staring at him. "I thought those eyes looked familiar... dear Planet. You're Rowan's son, aren't you?"  
  
His mouth fell open. Staring at her, he started to say something, closed his mouth, opened it again, shut it again, and finally managed a strangled "Rowan?"  
  
Lucrecia nodded, and her features took on a look of concern. "Are you alright? I'm sorry..."  
  
"You know my dad?" Seth got out.  
  
"I don't think there's *that* many other Rowan Drasils in the world. Especially not ones who come in and end up talking our ears off about four-year-old sons named Seth." She shook her head in disbelief. "I hadn't realized he'd been here *that* long..."  
  
"He's here?" Seth's voice was a whisper.  
  
Lucrecia nodded again. "Do you want to see him?"  
  
Seth hadn't been sure of much recently. He'd been fuzzy on identity ever since he picked up the Masamune, and between trying to figure out Vincent and Zair and his feelings for Aerin, almost the only certain thing in his life had been that they needed to defeat Jenova. He wasn't even sure about this, but that didn't stop him from making a decision.  
  
"Yes," he said quietly. "Yes, I do."   
  
-  
  
The Lifestream island was in an almost constant state of flux. Shaped entirely by the will of its inhabitants, entire landscapes could be changed in minutes by the thoughts of one person. It was considered polite, however, not to terraform (or Makoform, as the case may be) the island without discussing it with the others first; it was very disorienting to, for example, wake up and find a forest where there had been a lake. Some features of the Makoscape endured even after their shapers had departed for the stream, simply because the others had grown attached to them. So, changes were usually limited to small, personal spaces. And these could be as drastic as one wanted.  
  
Which explained why Hojo had to stop and readjust on entering Rowan's home. What had been for weeks a rather nicely designed Wutaiian layout had changed overnight into a lush indoor garden with an assortment of plants that did not grow together anywhere on the Planet. Looking ridiculously out of place in the middle of all this was a scruffy, red-haired man working diligently at a blueprint.  
  
"Is Wutai that boring?"  
  
The redhead looked up suddenly and grinned. He had an earnest face, with a broad nose and eternally unshaved stubble lining his jaw.   
  
"No, no, I liked it. I just thought some plants would be nice while I redesign it a bit. I want some real chairs in here instead of those cushions, but I need to figure out how to make that look right with all the other stuff I had. I think I'm keeping the futon, though."  
  
"Wonderful." Hojo looked around warily, finally finding a decent place to sit among several distinctly Nibel flowers and flamboyant Midelian ferns. "I see you took some artistic liberties."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Heh, sorry - I guess I'm always gonna be something of a kid about this." The redhead grinned, waving his hand vaguely. "I like the way these came out, so I'm gonna add another room for them. Upstairs, I think, so it doesn't spill out onto Lucrecia's garden. Sound good?"  
  
Hojo blinked slowly, with a faint, bemused smile on his face. "I'm not your landlord, Rowan. You can do whatever you like with your place."  
  
Rowan grinned again and shrugged. "Sorry. Hey, how's this blueprint look? I was up all night designing this one."  
  
"Another geothermal?" Hojo straightened his glasses and looked it over. "Hmm. Interesting. Working on the KISS principle, I see."  
  
"Exactly. Less to break down, and easier to fix when it does. Think it looks good?"  
  
Hojo peered at an indistinct area on the print, gave it another once-over, and nodded. "Very nice. Simple, yet effective."  
  
"My work is done." Rowan took the blueprint back and rolled it up, waving it at Hojo. "I'm telling you, Yamaki, someday I'm gonna have the Planet reincarnate me, and I'm gonna be one of those child prodigies, only instead of composing symphonies at age four or whatever, I'm gonna be the crazy little kid who designs power plants."  
  
"Good luck." Hojo looked around, and carefully moved further over to the side to lean against a sturdy young tree. "Speaking of plants..."  
  
"Flower or power?" Rowan grinned impishly.  
  
"You deserve to be smacked for that. Flower, as a matter of fact. I notice that this tree here is a rowan. Is there a reason, or are you just being narcissistic?"  
  
Rowan leaned back against a small hill obviously constructed for exactly that purpose and stretched out. Meanwhile a narcissus sprouted near Hojo's feet, earning the red-haired engineer a sour look. "There's a reason. It's almost that time of year again, you know... in a month or two, it'll have been twelve years since I came here. And... well, when I died, my family planted a rowan tree in the back yard." His voice was soft, and for a moment his eyes were distant. He finally shrugged. "I just like to remember them this time of year."  
  
Hojo tilted his head back, staring up into the rowan's leaves. "I'm sorry I asked."  
  
"Ah, don't be. It's fine."  
  
There was silence in the plant-filled room for a while. Hojo tapped his fingers on the ground, wondering what to say, and Rowan was apparently lost in thought. Both men jumped when the door was knocked on, Rowan accidentally upsetting his low drawing table and banging his ankle in the process. Cursing under his breath, he got to his feet awkwardly and limped towards the door, throwing it open.  
  
"Fugging sonofa- oh, *hi*, Lucrecia!" Rowan immediately straightened up and grinned embarrassedly. "Wasn't expecting you over. Don't worry, I can assure you that your husband is absolutely *not* tied up in my basement and covered in whipped cream --" Hojo snorted with laughter somewhere behind him, but Lucrecia's face remained serious. Rowan kept talking without missing a beat. "-- and I can tell you're not in the mood for jokes. What happened?"  
  
Lucrecia sighed and glanced over her shoulder. "There's someone here to see you."  
  
A look of disbelief passed slowly over Rowan's face. "Who?"  
  
She gave him a sad sort of smile. "Just send Yamaki out, and I'll send your visitor in. I think you two need some time alone."  
  
Rowan nodded numbly and turned around. Hojo was already getting up, and he nodded seriously before leaving. Lucrecia exchanged a brief, meaningful glance with him, and then turned around, calling to somebody standing a ways behind her.  
  
"Alright, come on over."  
  
Rowan couldn't see the person, but he heard the footsteps and thought he saw flashes of green on either side of Lucrecia. With a final glance at him, the two scientists walked away in a swirl of labcoat and ponytail. Finally seeing his visitor, Rowan's mouth fell open in complete disbelief.  
  
The white-haired teenager at the door shifted uncomfortably, and managed a smile.   
  
"...Hi, Dad."  
  
-  
  
It was kind of funny, Seth thought, how he and Rowan really did have the exact same eyes.  
  
His childhood memories of the man were fuzzy, and though they had always kept photos of him around the house, after so many years they had simply melted into the background, and Seth found himself realizing he hadn't really looked at one in a long time.   
  
Nevertheless, at the first sight of Rowan, he recognized the man as his father immediately. Fuzzy or not, he knew that red hair and those green eyes...   
  
Rowan opened and closed his mouth several times before finally just standing aside and motioning for Seth to enter. He did so, and Rowan shut the door behind him. Seth stopped inside, staring at the same tree Hojo had noticed earlier. He looked over his shoulder questioningly and Rowan shrugged, sitting down at his previous spot. Seth carefully moved the overturned drawing table away and sat directly across from his father.  
  
Rowan took a deep breath, let it out, started to say something, then slumped and shook his head, sighing. Seth swallowed, wondering what exactly one was supposed to say in this situation. The uncomfortable silence dragged out until Rowan finally looked up with anguish in his eyes.  
  
"Why, Seth?"   
  
The disappointment in that voice hurt. Seth bowed his head, his throat feeling tighter than it should. "I didn't mean to," he said in a small voice. "I didn't even see it coming."  
  
"What did you *do*?" Rowan's hand fisted in vibrant red hair. "Please tell me it wasn't a car accident or something stupid like that. Please? Gods, you're not even seventeen yet, are you?"  
  
"Will be in January," Seth said numbly, then closed his eyes. "Would have been, anyway. No, it wasn't a car accident. It was kind of stupid though."  
  
Rowan shook his head in despair. "Damn. Well, out with it. Why are you here?"  
  
Seth looked up and grinned sheepishly. "Would you believe I was trying to save the world?"  
  
-  
  
Lucrecia waved a hand in front of Hojo's eyes. He was still staring at Rowan's house and the closed door that Seth had disappeared into.  
  
"Yamaki. Wake up, Yamaki."  
  
"He looked *just* like him!" Hojo finally said, his voice a little louder than it probably should have been. Lucrecia took him firmly by the arm and led him away.  
  
"Yes, I *know* that. If he weren't so young and obviously human, I'd have been tempted to think he *was*. But he isn't."  
  
"Sephiroth never came to the island, Lucrecia! And after a life like his, I don't think he'd have gone to the stream! But he died! We know he did! We were there when Holy moved!"  
  
"Yamaki! Calm down." Lucrecia gripped his shoulders firmly. It took a lot to get her husband riled up, but when he was, it could be difficult to calm him down again. Nearly seventeen years had given Lucrecia a welcome talent in that area. "He is not our son. He looks like him, but he isn't. And even if he *was*, it's not our business. He's Rowan's son. How do you think Rowan would feel if we went and told him that his son wasn't really his?"  
  
Hojo shut up, but glanced over his shoulder again. "I want to *know.* I want to be sure, Lucrecia. This might be my only chance to make amends. Don't you understand? I won't tell Rowan. I swear I won't."  
  
"Please let it be, Yamaki. Don't frighten him by asking. Please just let him be Seth in peace."  
  
He gnashed his teeth and made a tortured noise in his throat, staring at Lucrecia pleadingly. "I need to know. If he is Sephiroth... I can't even begin to make up for how I ruined his life, but I need him to at least know that I wish I hadn't. He can think whatever he wants, but I have to know...."  
  
"Yamaki, you're *babbling.* Listen to me. He's a sixteen-year-old boy who has just *died*. Alright? If you have to bring that up with him, at least let him settle a bit. And for the Planet's sake compose yourself. It's all he needs to have you descend upon him frothing at the mouth and calling him Sephiroth."  
  
Hojo finally sighed, the tension going out of him as he bowed his head. "Alright. Alright. Fine. But I'll ask him. You know I will."  
  
Lucrecia smiled in fond exasperation, and nodded. "Yes, I know you will. You wouldn't be my Yamaki if you wouldn't."  
  
-  
  
"Save the world?" Rowan echoed hollowly.  
  
"Save the world." Seth nodded. "Okay, it's really hard to explain. You know that whole Meteor Crisis thing? Well, there was about to be another one. I got killed trying to stop it." He ground his teeth. "Gnnuh, and I was so *close* too. Ten more seconds and no more Meteor ever."  
  
Rowan was staring in frank disbelief at his son. "You know, I think you're going to have to tell me the whole story."  
  
Seth gave him a look. "Dad, later. Please? I just died. I don't want to think about it right now."  
  
Closing his eyes, Rowan smiled ruefully. "Fair enough. Later." He opened his eyes again. "But if you won't tell me about your death, tell me about your *life*. I missed too much of that."  
  
Seth blinked, then smiled. "Okay. I can do that."  
  
Grinning, Rowan scooted over and patted the ground next to him. Seth obligingly changed his position, leaning back against Rowan's hill.  
  
"Where should I start?"  
  
"Wherever you want." Rowan reached over and lightly ruffled Seth's white hair. Seth closed his eyes and smiled.  
  
"How about I pick up where you left off?"  
  
"That sounds great. Tell me everything."  
  
-  
  
Many hours later, Hojo eventually knocked on Rowan's door. The engineer's voice called him in, but quietly. Hojo opened the door with care and entered without making a sound.  
  
Seth had, Rowan explained, just fallen asleep. They had been talking for hours about his life, and finally Seth had grown tired and gone to sleep. Hojo nodded knowingly. Technically sleep was optional on the island, but Hojo knew well the feeling of simply wanting it.   
  
And certainly Rowan wouldn't have begrudged his son the nap. He was gazing at the small pale figure nestled against him with deep paternal love. While Hojo watched, Rowan gently brushed Seth's bangs out of his eyes.   
  
"I missed him, Yamaki. Him and his mother. I don't like to admit it, but I think I'm glad he's here."  
  
Hojo nodded, clamping down on the pangs of envy that Rowan could have this closeness. "It can get lonely here, when the ones you love are still alive."  
  
Rowan sighed and settled himself more comfortably against his hill. "Yeah. But at the same time, I wonder what kind of future he might have had." He shook his head slightly. "I guess there's probably worse ways to go than his way, but I always kind of figured that the next Drasil I'd see down here would be my brother."  
  
"You know Reno better than that, Rowan. He could have survived Meteor. The Lifestream isn't going to take *him* until he's damn well ready for it."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Rowan smirked. "Watch, when he comes down here, he'll be a hundred-and-fifty or something. Always thought it was sick that the Turk survives and the mild-mannered engineer dies."  
  
"It is. But that's how it goes."  
  
Rowan looked back down at Seth, frowning. "He's not even seventeen, Yamaki. He's such a great kid. He didn't deserve to die like this. Not at his age."  
  
"A lot of people don't."   
  
Rowan sighed and covered his face with the hand that wasn't currently wrapped around his son. "Sorry, Yamaki. I don't know what to feel right now. It just isn't fair..."  
  
"No, it isn't." Hojo placed a comforting hand on Rowan's shoulder, then stood up. "Follow your son's example and get some sleep, Rowan. I think you need it."  
  
Rowan nodded soundlessly. He hadn't moved when Hojo turned out his light and closed the door.  
  
-  
  
Day broke on the world above. Somewhere, a young woman was venturing alone into the heart of a dead city, in search of the most important thing that had been left behind. One dark-skinned arm reached out for a glitter of gold. Her fingers closed around it, and in that moment the weapon awoke, and welcomed her back.  
  
In that moment, Seth found himself jolted awake.  
  
Rowan had, at some point, fallen asleep with his arms wrapped protectively around his son. Blinking, Seth looked around. Nothing seemed amiss, and Rowan's snoring couldn't possibly have been loud enough to wake him.  
  
He tried to settle back down, but he couldn't get back to sleep. He stayed there for a long time, eyes wide, wondering.  
  
And as the sun rose in the world of the living, Aerin wondered too. 


	14. Chapter 14 The Second Day

Chapter 14 - The Second Day   
  
-  
  
A/N: You know, from the very beginning I was planning 14 chapters. I've been working on this chapter thinking it would be the finale. I wrote the last scene thinking I still had a long way to go before the chapter was done.  
  
And then Aerin said "No, it's done now. We're going for fifteen chapters."  
  
..... so, we're going for fifteen chapters. ^^;  
  
-  
  
The sky was an irritatingly clear bright blue. Three chocobos trudged with their riders through what seemed to be endless snow fields. The slight mountains and ridges of the citadel's land had subsided, and it didn't look like they were going much of anywhere now. Zair, lifting his blindfold slightly away from one eye, turned to face Aerin.   
  
"Cold, huh?"  
  
Aerin nodded, puffing out clouds and wrapping her makeshift cloak around herself.  
  
They had very nearly walked out of the citadel without it. It wasn't until Zair had commented, rather sarcastically, that he hoped the rest of the continent wouldn't be so obnoxiously cold as it had been last night, that Vincent remembered that Aerin was a thin-blooded desert girl and would need protection against the cold. Taking Vincent's cloak back from Seth's grave was out of the question, and the Mideel-raised Zair needed his jacket as much as Aerin did, so Vincent had made do. Aerin had been vaguely horrified to see the sheets taken from the ancient beds and sewn together, until Vincent had pointed out that nobody was very likely to need them any more and they were the largest supply of warm, wearable cloth available.   
  
So Aerin was currently draped in three layers of Cetra bedding, wrapped so thoroughly that only her face, hands, and legs were visible, and even her eyes were covered. It was kind of funny, and Zair had to grin a little bit as the chocobos trudged on.  
  
Vincent, now deprived of his thick red cloak, was down to some very thin-looking black garments that looked painfully inadequate as a defense against the cold. But he seemed entirely unperturbed, sitting ramrod-straight as he directed Mari purposefully forward. Zair grimaced and leaned closer to Strife's warm neck.   
  
"Hey, Valentine, where exactly are we going?"  
  
"For the moment, Icicle," Vincent said, his tone very much akin to the snow around them. "We can get more supplies there and move on to the Crater. It isn't far; we can make it within the day."  
  
"What, the Crater?!"  
  
"No, Icicle. We may be able to make the Crater by sunset, however, if we hurry."  
  
Zair grumbled and shut up. The morning had been pleasant enough, but ever since they'd started moving, he hadn't been in the best of moods. He blamed the cold - as Zax and as Zair he had always lived in warm forests, and the famous hot springs of Mideel did much to keep the island temperate all year. His leather jacket did a lot to keep the cold out, but not quite enough.   
  
His hand reached up to tug some of his long hair further forward. In an effort to keep in as much heat as possible, he had let out his ponytail and let his wild black hair form a shield against the cold. As long as a wind didn't kick up, it would be fine.  
  
Worse than the cold, however, was the light. The snow reflected the light so brightly it wasn't unlike walking across a giant mirror. Before they had even left the citadel, Vincent had further raided the ancient beds and made use of his own bandanna to fashion crude bindfolds. Two pillowcases, cut apart and carefully resewn, had served to cover the chocobos' eyes. His long bandanna, cut into thirds, provided blindfolds for the humans.  
  
Zair had solidly refused a blindfold at first, even as Aerin had rolled her eyes at him and accepted one. It was the *principle* of the thing, dammit. Vincent's patient explanations of snow-blindness, and the fact that even the chocobos accepted the eye covers after some coaxing, had done nothing to change his mind.   
  
Five minutes of trudging through the snow with unprotected eyes had. When Zair had meekly asked for the remaining blindfold, Vincent had smirked before handing it over.  
  
Zair slunk a little further into Strife's neck. The main reason he'd refused, now that he thought about it, was that SOLDIERs never covered their eyes if they could help it. Zax had tried to wear a pair of sunglasses once, and given up. The Mako glow had reflected back into his eyes and pretty much reduced his visibility to nil.   
  
As Zair, however, his eyes didn't glow anymore. His vision was tinted slightly red by the blindfold, but the blue glow he remembered and had expected was notably absent.   
  
Zair hadn't really wanted another reminder of what he wasn't.  
  
He shrugged his shoulders, pulled his jacket in around himself a little more, and stared out over the vast expanse of white. They had a ways to go until Icicle.  
  
-  
  
Seth stamped one booted foot against the ground, peering down at it suspiciously. When he moved his foot away, all he could see was normal earth; slightly flattened, bent grass rising back into place, but completely normal.  
  
Kneeling down, he brought his head down to the level of the ground and took a sniff. It smelled like dirt and grass, lacking the vaguely pungent, lingering, raw smell that had hung in the air around Mideel. He glared at it.  
  
Once you got past the green sky, everything around here was so absurdly normal. There were dozens of people on the island, and most of them knew each other. People went about their daily business in amicable silence, occasionally stopping to exchange greetings and perhaps catch up on what had been happening recently. Wandering rather uncomfortably through a particularly settled area, Seth heard himself come up in conversation more than once.   
  
It was horribly unsettling, once it sank in. Everyone here was *dead*. No matter how lively they were, how energetic or healthy they seemed, or how otherwise credible their impression of life was, life had already ended for every single person here. To Seth's further horror, people would occasionally *discuss* it, as casually as if they were talking about a birthday party they had attended last week. Overhearing one such conversation had been enough to spook Seth out into the hills where he didn't have to hear people talking.  
  
Despite understanding that, yes, he was in fact dead, it had taken this long for the shock to fade and the full realization to hit. He would *not* return to Nibelheim, ever again. His beloved mountain town was out of his reach forever. There wasn't any guarantee that he would see Lucy again; he fervently hoped that she would come soon, then stifled the thought with horror when he realized he was wishing death on his own mother.  
  
He would never, ever see Aerin again. Lucrecia had told him that the people who came to the island were those that had accepted their deaths, but had rejected the stream's peaceful oblivion. There was no doubt in Seth's mind that Aerin would accept death completely when it came for her. Cloud, Vincent, Nanaki - he wouldn't see Nanaki again for *centuries*, if at all, and was dimly aware that the Jenova effect in Cloud and Vincent meant that he might never have any chance to meet them again.   
  
There was a chance he might meet Zair, he thought, and then they could be sulky together.  
  
Being with his father again was the only bright spot that Seth was currently able to see. Rowan Drasil had been so thoroughly in love with life, that it was no surprise that he would automatically gravitate to the closest facsimile of it after death. He would have liked to stay with Rowan and catch up on twelve years of lost time, but Lucrecia had come over and insisted that Seth go out and get used to the afterlife now, and Rowan had reluctantly agreed.  
  
Sitting down, Seth looked up. Subtle differences in hue shifted peacefully across the green sky like cloud patterns. The familiar silver peaks of the Nibel mountains reached into the sky, their tips lost amid the swirl. Rowan, he had found out the night before, had been the one to sculpt them. It had taken him a full day, even with Hojo and Lucrecia helping him out with the details. It was quite possible for one person to make dramatic changes in the island's scenery, but it could take a very long time.  
  
Seth pulled his legs to his chest and rested his forehead on his knees. Hojo and Lucrecia lived next door to Rowan, and had apparently been good friends with Rowan for almost the whole time he had been here. They pulled at the very edges of Seth's memory, and something vaguely bothered him about Hojo.   
  
He could already hear what Masamune's response to that would be - it would point out that Hojo had made Sephiroth's childhood miserable and was indeed almost wholly responsible for the man's later insanity, and maybe *that* was what bothered Seth about him - but the more Seth thought about that, the less he actually thought it was true. He didn't know what it was, but he was almost certain it wasn't what the man had done. He had had about five minutes of conversation with Hojo that morning, and found the man to be pleasant enough company, if a little bit preoccupied. Whatever the scientist had done to Sephiroth, that wasn't what was bothering Seth.  
  
With a sigh, Seth unfolded and hauled himself to his feet, brushing stray blades of grass off his pants (and glaring at them when they failed to turn into wisps of Mako or otherwise fail to act like normal grass) and straightening his cape and mantle. Squaring his shoulders, he turned around and headed back to the commons.  
  
There was no use sulking. He had an eternity ahead of him to sulk in if he wanted to; right now he wanted to be with his father.  
  
-  
  
Somehow, no matter what, the Crater never really changed.   
  
Jenova smiled thinly as she peered down into the chasm, the high winds whipping her white hair as she did. The Black Materia was warm against her hand, knowing its master well. It was ready to perform its task at any moment.  
  
Soon enough, Vincent would be coming. And he would, of course, be bringing the children. They were of no real consequence; it was Vincent that Jenova wanted. He was absolutely necessary for this operation.   
  
Jenova sat down and settled herself against a large boulder, wrapping her wings around herself. She'd have brought Meteor down ages ago, if she could. She'd tried, in those first days when she had landed on this miserable rock, and found herself unable to tap the Planet's energy for the spell. The Lifestream of this Planet sensed her alien nature, and rejected her entirely.  
  
She had approached the Cetra after that, after months of careful observation, crafting her form to match theirs, subtly borrowing features from their dead. All had seemed well at first, and given more time Jenova might have tricked these Planet-loving creatures to use her Materia. But, of course, bad luck chose that time to strike.  
  
Whether it was a disease she had brought from her own home planet or the shed cells of her own body that caused the plague, neither she nor the Cetra had ever quite figured out. But those who had touched her grew frighteningly ill. It started with dizziness and fainting, then built itself up to delirium and violent madness; more Cetra died in the tortured rampages of the infected than ever fell at Jenova's hands.   
  
The final, horrific stage of the illness, which had managed to disturb even Jenova, had been the transformations. Even with the complete disdain and hatred she felt for the Cetra, it wasn't easy even for her to watch the pale-skinned, green-eyed people, so graceful and gentle in everything they did, clawing desperately at walls as their bodies twisted and warped; to hear the screams of absolute torment as legs stretched and bent unnaturally, mutated wings protruded from shoulders, hands became claws, smooth skin was covered with spines or scales or coarse fur...  
  
Many of those creatures had escaped to the gods only knew where, while a demented few, drunk with the pain of the transformation, continued their mad rampages and were killed in self-defense by the horrified Cetra. Jenova had stood by the entire while, never moving to help. She had been quite sure the Cetra would be able to handle it themselves, and her own mock-Cetra form had not been designed to fight. Showing herself now would have defeated the entire purpose.  
  
After the battle, though, the Cetra had turned on her, correctly identifying her as the source of their trouble. And then the second battle had begun.   
  
Jenova had discarded her disguise; there was no need of it now and her own body would serve her far better than a facsimile of theirs. Now completely suspicious of everything to do with her, the Cetra had somehow managed to steal her Materia, fighting her back any time she tried to retrieve it.  
  
Jenova scowled. And in the end, of course, the Cetra had more or less won; striking her apparently dead at the Knowlespole. They had found themselves unable to destroy her Materia, and instead pooled their considerable magic to transform it into a temple. In the process, they had unwittingly preserved its owner - Jenova had found herself quite unable to die while her Materia remained unbroken, regardless of its form.   
  
It had been a useless endeavor anyway, hoping that the Cetra could use her magic. The Materia was too much a thing of Jenova to be used by any entity so very unlike her. This Jenova had realized and pondered at length during her long, long imprisonment in the ice.  
  
Ah, but then along had come those bumbling miners, and they'd dug her up. Not knowing what to do with her, they had called their superiors in Shinra, and then the scientists had come.  
  
Those dear, dear scientists. Soft, foolish Gast, whose dream had started the project; sweet, stupid Lucrecia who had been too blinded by her own desire to see what Jenova was, even though she should have been the first to realize it; and of course Hojo. Hojo whose ambition had consumed him, drove him to sustain and study her for years, and caused him to ultimately provide the means to her ascension.  
  
She had toyed with the idea, once or twice, of conceiving a half-Cetra child, but never considered it viable - the Cetra knew her now, and would do anything to destroy her; if the unlucky father were to somehow contract her strange plague, she would be done for. The illness progressed faster than pregnancy did, and she did not look forward to having to fight the Cetra again while carrying a child. At any rate, it would be well nigh impossible to re-integrate herself into the Cetra's society after the first fiasco.  
  
Even assuming she ever got OUT of that wretched ice.  
  
But the scientists had come as a surprise. Despite their appearance, they were NOT Cetra. Even in Lucrecia, that blood ran thin. They were a race Jenova had not yet encountered, that called themselves humans.  
  
Jenova despised them, and yet they were the greatest aid to her cause the Planet could have given her. Whatever had infected the Cetra, they seemed immune to; best of all, the scientists' pet project created exactly what she needed. A halfling boy, human enough to use the Planet's energy, and yet so intimately connected to Jenova herself that he could use her Materia - and she could direct him! To Jenova's further delight, he was not the only one she could reach out to - Cloud Strife had bent marvelously to her will before that wretched Lifestream incident, and Vincent Valentine had proved himself to be a fine puppet as well.  
  
He would probably be on his guard now, but what of it? She had touched him at the Lifestream and he had broken free; she had touched him again at Bone and he had yielded. What of it if his mourning for Seth had heightened his sense of purpose? A tortured mind was Jenova's playground. She would win him over again; even if she didn't do it now, she knew how to hide. She would wait, and find him again and take him in again, even if it took months, years, decades, even centuries. He would not age, and neither would she. If he and his children proved too much for her here, she would withdraw and wait.   
  
She had become very, very good at waiting.  
  
-  
  
"Look, it's really simple--"  
  
"To a professional engineer, perhaps. Could you please make an effort to describe it in layman's terms?"  
  
"That's what I've been trying to do for ten minutes, Yamaki, come *on*, I know you at least know *some* of this."  
  
"Yes, and what I know is telling me you should *not* be able to do *that*--" Hojo pointed at a specific part of the blueprint-- "with a flow-reversal shaft."  
  
"It's not just the flow-reversal shaft, look how it interacts with the components *around* it--"  
  
Lucrecia turned to smile wearily at Seth, who had been standing there blinking in complete incomprehension.  
  
"They've been at this for ten minutes now," she said. "I'm lost, frankly. You can sit down if you don't mind being bored senseless."  
  
Seth pulled up a chair and sat down. "I'll live."  
  
"In a matter of speaking?"  
  
Seth stopped, realized what he'd said, and winced.   
  
"Yeah. In a matter of speaking." He looked over to where his father was still doing his level best to explain the more complicated parts of the design to the Wutaiian scientist, punctuating his lecture with a variety of sweeping hand gestures as Hojo occasionally put in his own two gil. "I didn't know Hojo knew anything about engineering."  
  
"Mmhmm. It was his major in college for about a year and a half before he realized how much he liked biology. He'd probably have gone farther in engineering; he designed some unique apparati for our experiments that worked pretty well." Lucrecia smiled wanly, gazing in her husband's direction. "But he wanted to be a biologist so badly. Richard was his hero for a long time before we started the Jenova Project. It was the first project they'd done together, and Yamaki was so thrilled. He'd always wanted to become as good as or better than Richard."  
  
"Who's Richard?" Seth asked.  
  
Lucrecia glanced over at him. "Richard Gast. The head of the Jenova Project for a time before he turned it over to Yamaki."  
  
"Oh. Never heard of him." Seth leaned back in his chair, turning to watch the argument again. "What the hell are they even talking about now?"  
  
"Concurrent energy transfer ratios and gear lock modules, I think. It's all Cosmo to me." Lucrecia said. "I've never had a head for anything mechanical. I could make a car explode trying to refill the gas tank."  
  
Seth turned to her with a grin and a raised eyebrow. "I hope you don't know this from experience."  
  
"Oh, I do, it was awful." Lucrecia grinned back. "It's a little known fact that that's why I *really* vanished. After giving birth to Sephiroth, I decided to refill the company car, and - boom."   
  
Seth laughed, but it sounded strained. Lucrecia dropped her joking tone and frowned.  
  
"I'm sorry.... that was terribly insensitive of me."  
  
Seth shook his head. "No, it's fine. I'll get used to it. Someday."  
  
Lucrecia grinned ruefully. "But until then, I should keep my mouth shut."  
  
Seth shrugged. His voice sounded thin when he spoke. "Well, I've got no choice but to get over it, right? At least my dad's here."  
  
Rowan was, at that moment, elaborating at length about the workings of some part in the blueprint, almost smearing the lines on the paper as he stabbed his finger against it.   
  
"Rather preoccupied at the moment, but here," Lucrecia remarked with a smile.  
  
The boy's smile was thin, but not sad. "And at least this time, he's staying put."  
  
-  
  
It was well into the afternoon by the time they got within sight of Icicle. Even wrapped up as she was, Aerin was thinking with wistful longing of the heat and fires of the canyon. She felt she would be quite happy to never, ever see snow again. Vincent's blindfold was tinting her vision red, and damn it, even that made her homesick.   
  
Phoenix was a fire esper. It was painfully, painfully tempting to summon the bird then and there and have her warm them, or better yet, carry the lot of them to wherever Jenova was. Chocobos were fast, but they could only do so much in snow, and flight had to be faster than walking...  
  
Part of her was annoyed that Phoenix had not already offered her flame to warm them, but she stifled it. She was insanely fortunate that Phoenix was willing to help her fight Jenova in the first place, and to wish for the esper to pamper her was just selfish. The gifts of gods should not be squandered.  
  
And so Aerin contented herself with thinking about what she would do when she got home, and daydreaming about how wonderfully warm the inn would be.   
  
She wondered how Seth would take to the snow.  
  
Closing her eyes against the sudden sharp ache, she brought a hand up to cover her chest. Just yesterday Seth had died right in front of her, smiling even as he faded away... handing back her charm, damn it, her *charm*, why hadn't she thought to use it? Phoenix down was meant to recover the wounded, bring them back from the edge of death, she could have used it, should have used it, but she hadn't, she'd looked for a stupid potion in her bag when she should have been tearing the feather off the charm to heal Seth and now he was dead and she was trying to hold back the tears, she really was--  
  
Gypsum chirped, and Aerin realized they had stopped moving, and she bent down and wrapped her arms around the chocobo's neck and tried to swallow her sobs, feeling the tears dampening her blindfold and smearing messily down her face, and then Zair was there.  
  
Somewhere underneath the sorrow, she was grateful for the warmth.  
  
-  
  
Zair had been so lulled by the monotonous crunching of chocobos' feet in the snow that it took him a few seconds to realize that the sound had changed. He pulled Strife to a stop, looked back behind him, and immediately ridden back around to where Aerin and Gypsum had stopped in the snow.   
  
Aerin was making small, strangling noises that were occasionally broken by big shuddering gasps, and Zair was worried about her health for only a moment before he knew what the problem was.  
  
"Aerin..."  
  
She barely responded as he put his arms around her, but then she half-turned and held on to him, and her face was wet against his chest. Her fingers found their way into his hair and that hurt him somewhere deep, but he did his best to ignore it, rubbing her back with one hand as he tried to remove her blindfold with the other.   
  
"Come on, let's get this off of you so it doesn't freeze... here..." He put the blindfold in his pocket and started stroking her hair with his now-free hand. "Shh... what's wrong?"  
  
"Seth..."   
  
Zair would have given a lot to never hear that heartbroken voice from Aerin ever again. He pulled her closer, mindful of the awkward angle, and pressed his cheek against the top of her head. It was fucking cold and she was getting his shirt damp and his back didn't like the angle he was sitting at and his heart was falling apart, but backing away now would be unforgivable.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
The tone was so flat it barely sounded like a question, but something behind it was galling, and Zair turned his head to glare at Vincent.  
  
"I'm *comforting* her, you ass."   
  
Vincent's eyes softened for a moment, but his expression soon became grim again.  
  
"Aerin," he said, riding Mari back towards them a few feet, "we're almost to Icicle. Can you pull yourself together until then?"  
  
And Aerin - poor, brave, sweet Aerin - suddenly pulled herself out of Zair's arms, sniffling and trying to compose herself quickly, leaving Zair feeling riven.  
  
"I-I think s-so..."  
  
Vincent nodded. "It won't be long. Let's go."  
  
And then - without so much as a touch or a gentle word - he turned Mari around and urged her on. Aerin took a deep breath and grasped the reins again, riding Gypsum forward. And Zair was left alone, staring in complete disbelief and a rising anger.  
  
'That.... son of a....'  
  
"Yah, Strife," he growled through clenched teeth. Strife glanced at him over his shoulder, and shot forward.   
  
He entertained vicious thoughts about riding alongside Vincent and tackling him off his chocobo the entire way to Icicle. It was only through the most rigid self-control, forcing himself to stare directly ahead and think about how Aerin would feel if he did, that he managed not to act on it.  
  
-  
  
"Hey, Dad."  
  
"Hmmm?" Rowan looked up from whatever he was working on; Seth couldn't really see it from his position on the tree branch above the man's head.  
  
"What do people *do* around here, anyway?"  
  
"Well, what do you mean?" Rowan put down his pencil.  
  
"I mean... well, nobody needs to eat, right? So no farmers or anything. Nobody needs money, if you can just make whatever you like out of nowhere. So what do people do?"  
  
Rowan grinned and leaned back against the tree trunk, looking up at his son. Seth was stretched full length out over the tree branch, his cape falling over to one side. "Well, you'd be surprised how little people actually do Makoform. We can interact normally with whatever we make, so... We just keep ourselves busy. Some people paint their houses. Planting gardens is tricky, but some people manage it. There's a couple novelists down here that write books. They love it because there's no deadlines anymore and they can just write." He grinned. "I make up blueprints. I redesign my house constantly, this was a Wutaiian layout a couple days before you came. You climb things, I see. Lucrecia and Hojo; well, who knows what they do, they *are* a married couple... but we socialize, we get to know our neighbors... We just do stuff."  
  
"Oh." Seth rolled over onto his back, a tricky maneuver on a relatively narrow branch. "You don't get bored or anything?"  
  
"Of course we get bored. Just because we're dead doesn't mean we stop being *human*." Rowan shook his head and grinned. "Why do you ask? Are you bored right now?"  
  
Seth was quiet for a moment, then laughed. "Well, kinda, yeah."  
  
Rowan stood up and stretched. "Tell you what, then. Those mountains are an excellent replica of the ones back home, if I do say so myself. What would you say to a little hike? Just like when you were a kid."  
  
'It won't be "just like" anything,' Seth thought. 'It'll be different...'  
  
But he didn't care. Smiling, he dropped off the branch to land on his feet.   
  
"That sounds great, Dad."  
  
-  
  
"What the *hell* was *that?!*"  
  
Vincent glared down at Zair.   
  
"Get out of my room."  
  
Zair stood stubbornly in front of the door, glaring at Vincent for all he was worth.  
  
"Not until you tell me what the *fuck* that was back there."  
  
"Back where?"  
  
"In the snow, you asshole. 'Pack up your tears, we're not in town yet', what the holy fuck was that?"  
  
"The middle of a snow field is not the best place to have a breakdown. We needed to get to the inn; at least here she has the privacy of a room."  
  
"Oh, she can REALLY help it when she starts hurting. Didn't you *hear* her? We had plenty of fucking time! She needed someone right then and there and you just shot that all to fucking Meteor and back!"  
  
"*Excuse me* for trying to maintain some sort of *order*."  
  
Zair's voice became low and dangerous. "You. Fucking. Piece. Of. Shit."  
  
"I will not listen to this. Get out of my room."  
  
"Not until you tell me what the hell your *problem* is."  
  
"We would be here all night. Get out."  
  
"Ooooooh, melodrama," Zair snapped. "Oh, poor Vincent Valentine. Poor, poor Vincent - he has all the angst in the *world* and nobody else needs any, *ever*--"  
  
The sudden, sharp slap filled the room, and the silence that followed was suffocating. Zair raised a hand to the red mark on his cheek, staring up at Vincent and suddenly aware of how tall he was.  
  
"Never. Speak. That. Way. Again." Vincent's voice was harsh and thready and trembling with rage.  
  
"I know," Zair said in a low, husky voice, "the truth's a bitch, isn't it?"  
  
In short order, he was nursing another red handmark.  
  
"You know *nothing,*" Vincent hissed. "It will be the claw next time."  
  
"Don't I?" Zair's voice was low and smooth and deadly. "No. I guess I don't. I just watched you - I was with Cloud and the others from the start, I saw their quest out, I was with them to the end - and I saw you, Vincent, I saw you brooding in the corners and I heard you talk about Lucrecia--" with surprising reflexes he caught the claw in mid-swing "-- and I saw you and her in the cave, I know what you've lost, I *know you*, Vincent. And that's why I need to know what. the. fuck. is. your. *problem.* Because if there's *anyone* in this world who can understand what she's going through, it's you."  
  
Vincent said nothing as Zair advanced slowly, staring up to meet Vincent's eyes in defiance of the near foot of difference in their heights. The boy's eyes were beginning to mist over, but the anger had not left.  
  
Vincent took a step backward.  
  
"She *loved him*, Vincent, and yesterday she had to watch him die."  
  
Red eyes flickered to the hands still wrapped around the claw.   
  
"Let go of me."  
  
"And you pretty much just told her to suck it up. You're drowning so much in your own dusty old angst that you can't see it when somebody else is in pain."  
  
"*Zair--*"  
  
"It's true, isn't it?"  
  
"Zair, this is not easy on me either--"  
  
"Fuck, *listen to yourself*!" Zair yelled. "Just *listen*! Wah wah wah, I'm Vincent Valentine, look at me whimper and cry - SHE LOVED HIM, YOU ASS--"  
  
"HE WAS MY *SON*!"  
  
Zair shut up, the anger suddenly gone from his face as he stared at Vincent. His hands were slack where Vincent had broken out of his grip. "...What?"  
  
Vincent seethed, hissing through his teeth - "I saw Sephiroth born. I raised him in the laboratory while Hojo worked on us - *I* heard his first words, *I* helped him learn to walk, he was the closest thing to a son I have *ever had* in my *life.* When he was five, Hojo took him away and put me to sleep and when I woke up and I didn't remember the most powerful connection of my life and Sephiroth was a grown man and sick with madness--"  
  
Now Zair was the one backing up as Vincent advanced, and Vincent's voice was sticking in his throat and he didn't care, he couldn't care.  
  
"--and Seth is everything he *should have been*, I lost my son *again*, and I want to do nothing but shed every tear I have and tear apart the sky for grief, but it is *not* the time and it is *not* the place and if we don't pull ourselves together and *move* and *fight*, there will not be a world *left* to grieve in!"  
  
His back against the door, Zair cast his eyes downward. Vincent took a deep breath and backed off.  
  
"She is only sixteen. I understand. I do *not* begrudge her the tears. But it was not the time or the place. It was not safe. That was my only concern."  
  
Zair stood up straight, still staring at the floor. Vincent turned his back to him.  
  
"Go to her now. Just... go."  
  
The boy took a deep breath, sighed, and turned, opening the door. He stopped, his hand still on the doorknob, and closed his eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"As am I."  
  
Zair slipped out the door without another word.  
  
-  
  
She was sitting in the hotel foyer, nursing a mug of some warm beverage and still draped in her Cetra-sheet cloak. Zair smiled a little and slipped into the chair beside her.  
  
"You holding up okay?"  
  
"Yeah." Her voice was thin, but not broken, and he took comfort in that. She turned her head to face him, setting down the mug. "What was that yelling I heard upstairs? And why is your face all red?"  
  
Zair coughed and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Vincent and I had a slight disagreement. It's cool now. Don't worry."  
  
Aerin accepted that, and took another sip from her mug. "This is the second day, isn't it?"  
  
Zair blinked, staring blankly until he remembered Vincent's words the previous evening. "Oh - yeah. Yeah. So if we don't defeat Jenova tonight or tomorrow, AVALANCHE'll come, right?"  
  
She nodded in response, then sighed. "I wish Cloud was here now."  
  
He didn't say anything to that, looking away and tapping his fingers against the table.  
  
They were already in Icicle. It seemed strange, not quite real. Almost since he had met her, he'd wanted to bring her here... he'd seen, as they made their way to the inn, that Gast's house was still in one piece. He'd been there with Cloud when the young man had seen the videotapes, precious records that Aerith had never had the chance to see...  
  
On finding that Aerith, too, had found her way into a new life, Zair had resolved that he would take her to see those videos. He felt that she deserved to know her heritage and the circumstances of her birth.  
  
But now...  
  
Zair leaned forward and wrapped a startled Aerin in his arms. She squirmed around in his grasp and pushed him slightly away, looking at him in disbelief.  
  
"Zair..?"  
  
He smiled gently. "I know I'm not your brother... but do you think you can make do?"  
  
She blinked twice, then smiled and laid her head on his shoulder.   
  
"I think I can do that."  
  
-  
  
"So, where are you two off to?"  
  
"To see the wizard," Rowan grinned.   
  
Seth punched Rowan in the shoulder, laughing. "To climb Mt. Nibel."  
  
Lucrecia glanced over at Hojo, smiling. "Well, which one should we believe?"  
  
"One of us always tells the truth, and one always tells lies," Rowan said.  
  
"He's the one who tells lies," Seth added helpfully, pointing to Rowan with a grin.  
  
"No, he is!" Rowan pointed back.   
  
"Well, the obvious solution would be to ask them a question and see who gives the true answer," Hojo remarked, grinning back at Lucrecia.  
  
Rowan laughed. "Okay, seriously. We're climbing Mt. Nibel. We used to do it a lot when I was al-- when Seth was little," he amended at the last moment.  
  
"Making up for lost time?" Hojo's eyes softened strangely, and he adjusted his glasses. "Well, enjoy yourself. Lucrecia's recently done some.... *Makoforming* she wants me to see."   
  
Lucrecia poked him. "You say it like it's such an imposition."  
  
Hojo shook his head. "Honestly, I just think the word sounds stupid. I'm really quite interested in seeing it."  
  
"I certainly hope so, I had such a headache from it." Lucrecia linked her arm with her husband's and started to drag him away, waving at Rowan and Seth. "Enjoy yourselves!"  
  
"We will!" Seth called, waving back.  
  
Rowan put his hand on his son's shoulder. "Are we ready to go up now?"  
  
Seth turned back to him and smiled. "Definitely."  
  
-  
  
Vincent sat at his window, glaring out through the frost at the Crater to the north. It was just visible, mocking him.  
  
'I could make it by nightfall if I went alone. I could leave the children here and face her alone.'  
  
He closed his eyes and shook his head.   
  
'And I might have done it before. But not now. This is no longer my own quest for vengeance. Aerin and Zair have earned their right to battle; Aerin especially.'  
  
'And I do not dare face her alone... not anymore.'  
  
/You never had to face her alone./  
  
Vincent jumped at the unexpected voice, reflexively turning to see who had spoken, even as he realized who it was.  
  
'Chaos.' He curled his lip in anger. 'You *promised* you would never--'  
  
Chaos' voice bulldozed straight over the last words of that thought. /Yes, I know. We all promised not to speak to you or interfere with your life. We've kept that promise faithfully over the years, Vincent - and look where it's gotten us./  
  
Vincent opened his mouth reflexively as he formed the answering thought. '....What do you mean?'  
  
/I mean we could have *helped* you, Vincent - but we were sworn to our oath, shut in a corner of your mind, and we weren't able. We wanted to help you. That's all we've ever wanted,/ Chaos said bitterly.  
  
Vincent jumped again, this time at the vivid feeling of a warm snout nudging against his knee. When they had still been speaking to him, Galian Beast had been the one most likely to compensate for his limited vocabulary by communicating with physical impressions. Vincent had hated it; it was terribly unsettling, then and now.  
  
/Friend,/ that most familiar monster murmured, and Vincent could very nearly see it crouched on the floor, its head on his knee, long tail twitching out like a cat's. /Love friend./  
  
And suddenly he *could* see them; all four of them, gathered in front of him. They had done this to him exactly once before, and it wasn't any less disturbing now than it had been then. If he looked away suddenly or tried to see them out of the corner of his eye, they would flicker; but otherwise, they looked as though they were actually there.   
  
He *really* hated it when they manipulated his senses.  
  
Chaos had his arms folded over his massive chest, broad wings folded almost primly behind his back. His nightmarish face was twisted into what Vincent thought might have been a look of disapproval, or of disappointment.  
  
/We could have helped you. It was our oath that bound us, and allowed HER to lock us away when she came in. We would have ripped her mind to shreds if we were free, but she was able to slip in, and by the time we noticed her, it was far too late./  
  
'If your oath *binds* you so tightly,' Vincent managed not to hiss aloud, 'then why are you here?'  
  
Hellmask spoke this time, lifting his mask to stare Vincent in the eye. Vincent hated that especially; beneath the mask, the monster's face was too like his own - gaunt and pale with staring red eyes. And he could not look away.  
  
/Because this's the first time we've got up the collective balls to break the damn oath,/ Hellmask snarled. /We're all just fucking sick and tired of watching you get hurt 'cos you won't let us interfere./  
  
'I am touched that you care for me so.' Vincent's thoughts were hostile.  
  
/We do, Vincent./ Chaos unfolded his arms and stepped forward. Vincent cringed as he suddenly felt the demon's claws on his shoulders, and tried to remember that anybody who walked in would be unable to percieve the creatures in any way. /We do care. We love you./  
  
'You're demons,' Vincent thought harshly, looking away.  
  
Galian Beast howled despairingly and rose to its feet, planting its hands on Vincent's leg. /Love Vincent!/ it insisted, with the sincere emotion of a child. /We love friend! Love son! *Miss* son!/  
  
Vincent gritted his teeth, swallowing back tears. "He is *my* son," he choked out aloud.   
  
/My son too,/ Galian Beast whimpered, licking his face. /Remember. Remember labs. Remember Sephiroth. Our son. Love son!/   
  
Vincent turned his head away from the beast's affection, glancing up to face Chaos. The demon's hideous face was - Vincent realized with a jolt - entirely sincere, even gentle.  
  
/We have never meant any malice. Not to you, not to your friends, not to the innocent. It is your enemies alone we hate. And Jenova most of all./ Chaos bowed his head. /And of course we look like demons - we were born in nightmares, did you expect sunshine and daisies?/  
  
Try as he might, Vincent really couldn't come up with an answer to that. Chaos released his shoulders and pulled himself up to his full height once more.  
  
/We have never been your demons, Vincent Valentine. We only want to help./  
  
Vincent closed his eyes. The sight-manipulation still remained, and he saw the creatures clearly against the back of his eyelids. He opened his eyes once more, just to see them against a setting and not floating in black space.  
  
'You're absolutely sincere about this, aren't you?'  
  
/Completely./ Chaos nodded. /Will you have us back?/  
  
Vincent was silent for a moment, and then sighed.   
  
'I suppose I will.'  
  
Galian Beast barked and licked his face, lashing his tail back and forth in what must have been an expression of happiness. Hellmask crowed, pulling his mask back down and revving his chainsaw once. Death Gigas - the only one of the group who was incapable of speaking, and had been silent until then - rumbled happily, and Chaos smiled a startlingly pleasant smile for such an ugly face.  
  
And then they faded from his sight again, with only Chaos's final /Thank you/ echoing in his mind. Vincent stood, looking out the window again.  
  
The Crater stood at the northern horizon, as if daring him to approach. Jenova waited there, and he knew what she planned for him if he lost their battle... not death, but absolute control. She had done it to him twice. She could do it again.  
  
Death Penalty shone black on the nightstand.   
  
Vincent narrowed his eyes. A nasty smile crept over his face as he reached for the gun.  
  
-  
  
Vincent stalked through the inn's foyer, and would have gone right out the door had he not noticed Zair and Aerin. The healer was curled against Zair's chest, wrapped in his arms.   
  
He considered, for a moment, telling them where he was going.   
  
Shaking his head, he opened the door and stepped out.  
  
-  
  
"Captain?"  
  
Faris' eloquent, thoughtful response was a gentle snore. Faemdos smiled, shaking his head, and shook her awake where she was asleep against the railing. She started slightly and lifted her head, blinking groggily.  
  
"Fmmmds?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "Whzwrng?"  
  
Faemdos laughed. "We should let you sleep up here more often. It does wonders for your snoring."  
  
Faris yawned and stretched. "Shut up," she groaned, rubbing the kinks out of her neck. "Ow. No, I'm never doing that again."  
  
"Fair enough. I just thought I'd let you know it'll be sunset pretty soon now."  
  
"Really? Oh, geez. Thanks." Faris stood up and stretched some more.  
  
"Have you been asleep here all day? I've been on duty down below, but I heard Lamkin commenting earlier..."  
  
"Yeh. Didn't get any sleep last night, so I came out here sometime ass-early in the morning and sat down to watch the sunrise... damn it, that's going to completely ruin my sleep cycle..."  
  
"As if we were going to be doing a whole lot more sailing anyway. It's still technically our off-season."  
  
"I keep forgetting that." Faris yawned again, rubbing at a red mark on her cheek where the railing had pressed against her skin. "Thanks for the heads up, anyway. I'll be watching."  
  
"Not a problem." Faemdos looked towards the north. "Do you think they'll do it?"  
  
Faris closed her eyes, and sighed.  
  
"They had sure better."  
  
-  
  
Seth leaned back and took a deep breath of the mountain air. Somehow, even knowing that he was not really breathing and it wasn't really air didn't take away the feeling of rightness. It smelled exactly like the mountains back home.   
  
It made him a little bit more homesick, but also comfortable.   
  
Rowan shifted beside him, and Seth smiled. The only time he had spent with his father had been when he was a very young child, but somehow this was just as familiar, just as comfortable as the smell of the mountains. He recognized Rowan. He felt at home with Rowan.  
  
"Dad?"  
  
"Hmmm?" They weren't even very far up the mountain, but they'd come to a plateau that was too nice not to stop at.  
  
"This is nice."  
  
Rowan nodded. "I always liked this place.."  
  
Seth opened his mouth to speak - 'no, that's not what I meant' - but closed it again and smiled. "Did you get the Mako fountain?"  
  
"Yggdrasil? Of course." Seth had first seen the Mt. Nibel Mako fountain shortly after he had learned about the legend of Odin and Yggdrasil, and had been so excited by the discovery that he insisted on naming the little fountain after the world tree. "You loved Yggdrasil. I had to put it in."  
  
"Can we go see it?"  
  
"Sure. Why not?" Rowan stretched.  
  
Seth stood up and stepped up onto the boulder they were leaning on. Rowan blinked at him.  
  
"Wait, now? There's no hurry."  
  
Seth laughed. "There is to me. I'm still thinking like a living person. Come on, let's go."  
  
Rowan grinned, laughed, and stood up. "Fine. Let's go, then."  
  
-  
  
It was biting cold out, and Vincent was getting more than a few strange looks for walking through the snow in such unsuitable clothing. He was ignoring them, as well as the cold. Temperature was irrelevant to one such as him.  
  
He stopped at the edge of town, squinting against the reflected light. Beyond where he stood was a slope commonly used by snowboarders. He remembered - with some amusement - how Cloud had taken them all down to the glacier on snowboards on their way north the last time...  
  
/But you don't have a snowboard,/ Chaos commented in his mind.  
  
'No, I don't.' Vincent turned away and walked into the forest. 'Nor do I need one. You'll help me out there.'  
  
Chaos was silent for a moment. /Wait. What?/  
  
'It's obvious, isn't it? We're going north.' Vincent began to scale a tree.  
  
/Without Aerin and Zair?/ It was clear to Vincent that Chaos hadn't actually been paying much attention to his thoughts, which was satisfying. At least they had the decency not to walk all over his brain... /You can't be serious!/  
  
'You can fly,' Vincent thought with a grim smile as he reached the top of the tree. 'More importantly, you can fly fast.'  
  
/Vincent, you're mad./ Chaos sounded wary. /It's too dangerous./  
  
'Not now, it isn't.' Vincent's smile turned almost nasty, revealing his fangs. 'She won't kill a promising pawn like me. And you yourself said you'd rip her mind to shreds if you were free...'  
  
Chaos hesitated. /But to outright confront her.../  
  
'Why not? Are you afraid?'  
  
/For you, yes./  
  
Vincent closed his eyes and withdrew himself, searching inside, and Chaos suddenly found himself pulled forward. Vincent made a small sound, throwing his head back as the change began.  
  
'Then protect me.'  
  
Wings unfolded from Vincent's back. Deaf to the sudden cries of shock and disbelief from the people below in the town, he spread his wings, he jumped...  
  
And he flew.  
  
-  
  
Vincent had never really noticed, quite honestly, how fast the scenery sped by when you were flying. He'd never really looked outside when they were on the Highwind, and this was the first time he'd allowed himself to fly freely as Chaos.  
  
And now he was quite frankly marveling at it. Chaos knew where to go and was taking care of the actual flying and navigation, leaving Vincent in the position of passenger.  
  
It was honestly amazing, the landscape blurring underneath them, while Vincent could feel his shoulders flexing as the great wings flapped, catching the occasional rare thermal and riding the winds.   
  
/I can't very well see where we're going if you keep staring at the ground./  
  
Grudgingly, Vincent lifted their head to look forward again. The Crater loomed in front of them, much closer than it had been seemingly only minutes ago. The light was changing, and Vincent noted this with caution as Chaos carefully maneuvered them through the increasingly dangerous winds. Vincent prepared himself to take control again as Chaos glided slowly along the side of the Crater, landing quietly and folding their wings.   
  
Black hair suddenly fell around cloth-covered shoulders as Vincent became himself again and stood up.  
  
Tentatively, he sniffed the air. Jenova wasn't near, he was having a hard time catching her scent.  
  
'But I'm certain she's here...'  
  
He was suddenly aware of a warm pressure against his leg and groaned aloud.   
  
'You can speak, you know. You don't have to lean up against me if you want something.'  
  
/Change? Run? Hunt?/ Galian Beast's limited vocabulary didn't help his request. /We hunt?/  
  
Vincent closed his eyes. He wanted to say no.  
  
'.....fine,' he consented with a sigh, and had hardly done so before his body was changing again, Galian Beast running forward with puppylike eagerness.  
  
'Stay discreet,' he warned. 'Don't let her know we're here.'  
  
/Won't,/ Galian Beast thought back in an injured tone, but immediately calmed, setting his nose to the ground and then to the air.   
  
-  
  
"Do you want to go up to our room?"  
  
Aerin shifted, then pulled away from Zair. "Okay. Thank you."  
  
Zair nodded, rising and helping her up. "Any time."  
  
Aerin brushed her hair back, wiped her face, and smiled at him. He smiled back, and they moved to climb the stairs.  
  
"You think you'll be okay?"  
  
Aerin tossed her head to shake a stray lock of hair out of her face. "I will."  
  
They reached the top of the stairs, turned down the hallway, and were soon in front of the room door. Zair fished a key out of his pocket, unlocked the door, and opened it.  
  
"Do you know where Vincent is?" Aerin inquired as she moved to sit on one of the beds.  
  
Zair shrugged off his jacket and hung it by the door. "Probably still in his room. Come on. Let's just settle down. Want to try and get a nap?"  
  
"That sounds good." Aerin stretched. "We really haven't had very much sleep, have we?"  
  
"Nope." Zair yawned. He collapsed into his designated bed without so much as removing his boots, which Aerin giggled slightly at as she settled into her bed.  
  
As she slid out of the heavy cloak and crawled under the heavy covers, she thought of Seth again.  
  
Curling up under the blankets, she made a fist over her heart and closed her eyes. Somewhere inside, behind her heartbeat, she thought she could feel the Phoenix burning...  
  
'I know I'll be okay. This isn't the sadness I felt at Costa del Sol. This is real; this is my own feeling. And it will never go away, because if it does, I've forgotten him... and I never want to do that. But I guess it'll hurt just a little less, every day...'  
  
'And I think I can deal with that.' 


	15. Chapter 15 The Thing With Feathers

Chapter 15 - The Thing With Feathers  
  
-  
  
A/N: Your eyes do not deceive you. It is indeed another chapter.  
  
I can't apologize enough for taking so long with this one. o.x Hopefully its length will make up for that. And I hope the scene formatting in this one isn't too confusing...  
  
And this is still not the end. There's at least one more chapter to go. XD  
  
-  
  
"How is it? Pretty accurate?" Rowan smiled as Seth crouched by the Mako fountain.  
  
"It's great, Dad," Seth said quietly, running his fingers along a branch of the little tree. "Just like when I was a kid."  
  
"Have you ever gone to see it since? You know, up there?" Rowan asked softly.  
  
"Yeah..." Seth stood up and backed away. He turned to grin cheekily at his father. "It's bigger now."  
  
Rowan laughed. "What's it like?"  
  
Seth tilted his head up to look at the arching ceiling of the cavern. This was so bizarre. His fond memories of the fountain had mostly faded away as he watched it grow and develop over the years. Being here was like seeing his childhood memories restored and brought to life. Now it was the reality of the living world that had become the memory...  
  
"It's got leaves now," he said softly. "Kind of. They're not like real leaves, though... it's like they're made of Materia. It's hard to explain... but it's really cool."  
  
Rowan sat down amid a tangle of roots and rested his head on his chin. "Hnh. It does sound pretty cool. How big is it now?"  
  
"About twice this one's height... and it really looks like a tree now. And the leaves kind of glow a bit, so there's this light..." Seth groped for words, and finally gave up. "It's too bad you can't see it."  
  
"Hmm." Rowan looked contemplatively at the tree. "...You could show me."  
  
"Buh?" Seth blinked in confusion. "But how-- oh. Makoforming?"  
  
Rowan grinned, and shrugged. "If you wanna give it a shot, this'd be a good first project... something you already have a clear picture of in your head. I could teach you."  
  
Seth brought his gaze back down to the tiny tree and frowned, kneeling beside it. When it had been this small in the living world, Seth had also been so small that his hand would not fit all the way around the largest branch. He could still remember the sight of his own tiny fingers clutching tightly to the branch, and his father's warm laughter...  
  
Gently, he reached out to take the same branch in one hand. His fingers wrapped easily around it.  
  
'I'm not a little boy any more...'  
  
Sighing, he removed his hand from the branch. He was vaguely aware of Rowan's expectant gaze as he waited for an answer, but he didn't want to rush this. He didn't want to carelessly destroy a precious memory and regret it later...  
  
His eyes were drawn to the crystals of natural Materia resting in the fork of the branches. He could hear people talking, two men and a woman, and he thought that Hojo and Lucrecia must have caught up to them already.  
  
"Why is it that when you use Materia, you can also use magic too?"  
  
Wait.  
  
"You were in SOLDIER and you didn't even know that? The knowledge and wisdom of the Ancients is held in the Materia."  
  
Was he talking? He felt his lips moving, but was he actually saying those words? Why didn't that sound like his voice?  
  
"Anyone with this knowledge can freely use the powers of the Land and the Planet."  
  
...He could see Zax there, standing beside the fountain, and a pretty girl with long brown hair. He stood taller than any of them, calmly explaining to the black-haired SOLDIER the how and why of Materia, just a little bit amused at his friend's ignorance, and slightly irritated at the delay. They didn't really have time to be dallying around chatting about Mako fountains. Though he had to admit, the place was very soothing...  
  
"Seth?"  
  
And then he was on his knees, staring wide-eyed with one pale hand stretched out in front of him.  
  
"Oh, shit," he said softly.  
  
"What? What's wrong, Seth?" Rowan shook his shoulder gently. "You completely spaced out. What's going on?"  
  
"I-- it's nothing," Seth said quickly, shaking his head and turning to face Rowan. "Nothing."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah," Seth said, grinning a little to try and erase the worry from his father's face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... weird memories. I'll tell you about it later."  
  
"We have time now..."  
  
Seth shook his head again and glanced back at the softly glowing fountain. "No... right now, I want to learn how to Makoform."  
  
-  
  
Jenova really did have a singular smell.  
  
Galian Beast's nose wrinkled in disgust, and he stopped to paw at it in irritation. 'Closer.'  
  
/Still not close enough,/ Vincent's voice murmured in the beast's mind, with an edge of irritation. /Where is she?/  
  
'Near,' Galian Beast insisted, shaking off the snow that had accumulated in his fur and trudging forward. He was well protected against the cold by virtue both of his fur and the internal magic that allowed him to produce a sort of fire spell. But that didn't mean he liked wind and snow, and he whimpered slightly in displeasure.  
  
/Don't let the bitch hear you,/ Hellmask snapped.  
  
/Are we all quite sure she is actually outside the crater?/ Chaos said sardonically.  
  
'Quiet,' Galian Beast whined at the voices. 'Too noisy, can't think.'  
  
/Now you know how I feel,/ Vincent said flatly.  
  
'Smell strong anyway,' Galian Beast said in a sulky tone, sniffing at the air. 'Outside for sure.'  
  
/As long as you're sure./  
  
/He is, now everyone shut up and let him hunt. The sooner we find Jenova, the sooner we can end this./  
  
The other aspects fell obligingly silent at Vincent's commanding tone, and Galian Beast trudged on through the snow.  
  
-  
  
"Keeping up all right, Yamaki?" Lucrecia called teasingly to her husband, who gave her a half-hearted glare as he made his way down the cliff.  
  
"I never was one for mountain climbing," he grumbled, carefully searching out a foothold. Lucrecia laughed softly.  
  
"Just jump, it's not as though you can get hurt."  
  
"Let me cherish the illusion."  
  
"Shall I catch you?" Lucrecia set her arms akimbo, walking back to the cliffside and looking up at Hojo.  
  
"Not unless I--"  
  
The outcropping that Hojo was standing on, which he could have sworn was solid, abruptly crumbled away from the rock face. With a terribly undignified squawk, Hojo found himself tumbling down the cliff. And as though it had been planned that way, he fell directly into his wife's arms.  
  
"--fall?" Lucrecia finished his sentence sweetly, smirking at him. He gave her a flat look.  
  
"You did that on purpose."  
  
"Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't - I'll never tell." Setting him down on his feet, she brushed the dust off the front of his coat and affectionately straightened his glasses.  
  
Attempting vainly to salvage his dignity, Hojo crossed his arms and turned to face the roaring waterfall. "Is this what you wanted to show me? Because if it is, I should remind you that I've seen it before. Many times."  
  
Lucrecia slapped lightly at his shoulder. "I know that. This isn't what I want to show you."  
  
"Pray tell, then, why we're at the lake?"  
  
Although, Hojo had to admit to himself, the small valley was not altogether an unpleasant place to stay. Lucrecia had done it all by herself when they had been helping Rowan form the mountains, and hadn't told him about it yet. Although Rowan could have found it on his own and chosen not to tell them, Hojo felt confident that the lake valley remained his and Lucrecia's secret.  
  
"It's behind the waterfall."  
  
Hojo blinked as his train of thought sharply derailed. "Uh? Behind? I, er, I wasn't aware there was anything there. Er, unless you didn't take it from real life..."  
  
His wife laughed softly and patted him on the head. "Don't hurt yourself, Yamaki. I did take it from real life, actually, but it's quite small. Come on, I'll show you."  
  
And Hojo found himself dragged by the hand in a most undignified manner towards the waterfall.  
  
-  
  
'Getting close,' Galian Beast thought excitedly. 'Smell strong.'  
  
/We noticed,/ was Chaos's sardonic reply.  
  
/We need to focus,/ Vincent thought fiercely. /We're here to steal the Black Materia and get out. Concentrate./  
  
'Am,' the beast whined. 'Quiet.'  
  
/Just be careful./  
  
Muttering in his mind about Vincent being annoying, Galian Beast kept close to the lip of the crater, picking each step carefully and painfully aware of each noise he made. If he wasn't careful he could easily call Jenova's attention to him...  
  
He nearly tripped over her.  
  
/Careful,/ three voices hissed at him in unison. He grumbled back at them and peered curiously at Jenova.  
  
She was half buried in a snowdrift, with her eyes closed and her arms loosely encircling the Black Materia where it rested on her stomach. The character of her scent indicated that she was not dead, just asleep. Galian Beast blinked several times, thinking that it could not possibly be this easy.  
  
/Just take the fucking thing,/ Hellmask hissed.  
  
Almost reluctantly, the beast reached out carefully to take the thing gingerly between his claws. As he lifted it carefully away from Jenova, she shifted, murmured, opened her eyes, and looked straight at Galian Beast.  
  
For a crazy moment the two of them stared almost uncomprehendingly at each other. The beast was the first to react - stumbling backwards in a panic and grasping at the orb. Jenova was faster, however, and erupted from the snow to assault Vincent's alternate aspect before he had managed three steps back. He shoved the Materia between his jaws and turned to run away in frantic terror, but she bore down on him. Incoherent with fear, the beast scrambled desperately away, barely noticing as he scrabbled up ancient rock.  
  
He did, however, notice when it reached the edge of the crater. By that time, it was too late to turn back, and Jenova ploughed straight into him, sending the two of them plummeting into the depths.  
  
-  
  
The sun had almost completely set.  
  
Faris could tell by the fading light - she didn't dare look at the sunset itself, keeping her eyes locked to the northern horizon.  
  
...He really should have fired off the flare by now.  
  
'Fuck, no.'  
  
"Captain?"  
  
'Fucking hell, Vincent, don't you dare. This shit is not funny.'  
  
"Captain, the sun's already set."  
  
'You'd better fucking just be distracted...'  
  
"Captain, we have to call them now. You said Valentine was very clear about that."  
  
"Fuck. He was, wasn't he?" Faris stared at the horizon for a few more agonizing minutes, before finally turning away. "Fucking stupid-ass shithead... he had to fucking go on alone, didn't he?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Captain." Faemdos laid a reassuring hand on Faris's shoulder, but she shrugged it off.  
  
"Don't apologize," she said, her voice too gruff. "It's Vincent who needs to be fucking sorry..."  
  
-  
  
"Well... what do you think?"  
  
Hojo glanced around the cavern, wondering what to say.  
  
It was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. Layers of gracefully curved white pillars lined the walls of the surprisingly round cave, and some sort of light source glowed on an elegantly sculpted throne. Beautiful, but a little cold. Turning to face his wife again, Hojo opened his mouth to say so, but something in her stance and in her face suggested a strange kind of vulnerability. He realized that this was important to her in a way he didn't understand.  
  
"... You took this from real life, you say?"  
  
"Yes." Lucrecia clasped her hands behind her back and gazed wistfully around the small cave. "Do you remember when I died?"  
  
Hojo felt a cold shiver run down his back. "When you gave birth to Sephiroth?"  
  
Lucrecia nodded. "The Jenova in my body wouldn't let me stay dead... when you disposed of my body, I crawled away... and I found myself in the river valley. I still don't know why I came to this cave, but this is where I stopped. I stayed here and waited to die."  
  
Hojo could feel each individual hair rise along the nape of his neck.  
  
Lucrecia gave a soft, self-deprecating chuckle and bowed her head, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Nobody ever did ask where that sword came from, did they? Sephiroth's sword?"  
  
"Some did," Hojo said lamely. "Nobody ever got an answer."  
  
"It came from here," Lucrecia said softly. "I made it; I left the cave just long enough to deliver it. I told you after Holy moved, right? That my father was a Cetra?"  
  
"Yes," Hojo said hoarsely. "But you never said much more than that..."  
  
"I inherited his magic," Lucrecia said softly. "But I couldn't hear the Planet... never in my life. To me, that was what a Cetra was. Because I couldn't do that, I renounced my magic. I didn't think I was entitled to use it if I couldn't even communicate with the Planet."  
  
"Then, is that why you went along with the Jenova Project?" Hojo felt paralyzed, frozen. "Because you wanted to become a real Cetra?"  
  
"Yes." Lucrecia closed her eyes. "And... I feel terrible about it now. All that time, the secret was right there in my body. And we ruined it. I let us ruin it..."  
  
"Lucrecia." Hojo's voice came out as a whisper and he stepped forward to take his wife in his arms. "It wasn't only your fault... oh, Lucrecia. I really hope you aren't going to cry, you know I have no idea how to deal with crying women."  
  
Lucrecia lifted her head and laughed. To Hojo's utter dismay, there were tears running down her cheeks as she did. "It's okay, Yamaki, it's just... well, I think you're right. Seth was our son."  
  
Hojo blinked, not quite sure of what to say.  
  
"But... Sephiroth was never really happy, was he?"  
  
Hojo looked away, feeling guilty. "No. He might have been if it hadn't been for..."  
  
"Hush." Lucrecia placed her finger to Hojo's lips and smiled through her tears. "I think Seth might have had a happy life... I think that what we did to Sephiroth has been made up for. There's no reason any more for us to dwell on these things. We should move on..."  
  
"Can we?"  
  
"We won't know until we try," Lucrecia said, and chuckled. "I... really hate this place, you know."  
  
"Then why...?"  
  
"So I could break it," Lucrecia said, with a bit of an edge in her voice, stepping out of her husband's arms. "Thirty years in here, wanting to just die... I want to see this place broken."  
  
Hojo gave her a worried look. "Lucrecia?"  
  
"Will you stay here with me, Yamaki?" She turned her gaze to him and smiled. "Oh, it's really not all that dramatic, and it can't hurt us. I just want to see it broken... I want that victory, at least. And I want you here. Will you stay?"  
  
He stood numbly for a moment, staring at his wife; with her face streaked with tears, her eyes shining in the strange light, and that smile on her face...  
  
Giving his answer, Hojo wondered if he could have ever possibly said no.  
  
-  
  
Halfway down the crater, the Galian Beast finally had the presence of mind to grab the Materia out of his mouth. The moment he did, wings sprouted from his back and he was suddenly Chaos. Cradling the Materia against his chest with one hand, he grabbed at the nearest wall as it came near, leaving claw marks for nine feet until the friction slowed his downward motion enough for him to dig a foot into the wall and stop himself. He barely spared a moment to watch Jenova falling below him before he stretched his wings and pushed himself up, flapping wildly to gain lift.  
  
He'd never had to fly that fast in all the time he'd existed, and his wings ached as he fought air resistance and his own limitations to get out of the crater as soon as possible. It seemed like eons too late when the rock all around him suddenly gave way to snow and sky, but as long as Jenova was even a few moments behind him, there was still a chance.  
  
Chaos arrowed away from the ancient crater, praying to any kind god that had ever spared Vincent a sideways glance to let the wind change against Jenova when she came out.  
  
-  
  
The PHS rang precisely three seconds after Cloud had finally finished his daily chores and relaxed into his bed. He opened one luminous eye to glare balefully at it, before grabbing it and turning it on.  
  
"Yes, Cloud Strife speaking," he said tersely, thinking happy thoughts of throwing the phone against a wall. Why the hell did he even still have it?  
  
It was a woman's voice that answered, sounding deadly solemn. "Cloud, this is Faris Scherwiz, captain of the light cargo ship Tycoon... um, I'm a friend of Vincent's. He... he told me I needed to call you."  
  
Cloud sat up and blinked, his irritation fading. "What? Why?"  
  
"... oh, it's long and complicated. Do you by any chance know a boy named Seth Drasil?"  
  
"Seth? Oh, yeah, he passed through Cosmo not too long ago... what happened?"  
  
"Well... I was transporting him and Vincent to the North Continent, he stole a lifeboat and went on ahead with some braindead notion of killing Jenova alone--"  
  
"The hell?!" Cloud interrupted. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
"Don't I wish. Anyway, Vincent went on after him, and gave himself three days... he was supposed to signal me after each day to let me know he was alive--" Here the woman's voice broke, and Cloud listened, horrorstruck, to her ragged breathing across the line for a few seconds. "Cloud, he didn't signal me tonight."  
  
"He's dead?" Cloud said hoarsely, disbelieving.  
  
"I don't know... I just don't know. He told me that if I didn't get his signal, I had to call you and--and get you to bring AVALANCHE. So... so get your world-saving asses up here and do what they made you famous for!"  
  
-  
  
Seth sat heavily back against the newly shaped fountain, rubbing his head. He had a headache.  
  
"Wow," Rowan said in a soft, appreciative tone. "Nice work, kid."  
  
"Thanks," Seth said, absently wondering how he could be breathless when he didn't need to breathe.  
  
"No problem. Hey, thank you." Rowan smiled. "It's nice to see it the way you did."  
  
"Happy to be of service," Seth chuckled. "Ow..."  
  
Rowan sat next to his son and patted him on the shoulder. "Yeah... it'll do that. Don't worry, just give it time and it'll go away."  
  
"Lifestream time or real time?" Seth grouched, rubbing his temple.  
  
"Does it matter?" Rowan pulled Seth into a loose, one-armed hug. "It'll quit hurting when it quits hurting."  
  
Seth muttered something impolite, and Rowan laughed.  
  
-  
  
Chaos' wing muscles screamed for rest, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He urged himself on, the chorus of voices in his head howling encouragements the whole way, as the inn came into sight at long last. He felt Vincent's presence rising up as he approached, and while it was Chaos who crashed through the window in a shower of glass and windowpane, it was Vincent who hit the ground and rolled across the floor, springing to his feet and deftly grabbing Jocasta's bag from the bedside table. Shoving the Materia in after it, he took a moment to shake the burning sensation from his hand as he dashed to the door, flinging it open and thundering down the hallway.  
  
Zair had just emerged from his and Aerin's shared room when Vincent reached the door, and Vincent shoved the bag into his hands.  
  
"Go! Take Strife!" Vincent roared. "This is the Black Materia, take it to the Sleeping Forest and leave it! The harp is in the bag too! MOVE!"  
  
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Zair squeaked, his voice betraying his young age.  
  
Vincent didn't give him any more time, instead manhandling him towards the stairs. "GO NOW!"  
  
As a very flustered Zair ran down the stairs without further hesitation, Vincent turned to Aerin, who stood in the doorway looking shell-shocked.  
  
"If you wanted to fight, Aerin," he growled, "this is your chance!"  
  
-  
  
"See?" Lucrecia smiled, brushing the dust from Hojo's hair. "It wasn't all that dramatic."  
  
Hojo glared flatly up at her, buried up to his ribs in fallen rock. "If you would, kindly help me out before you decide to get smug with me."  
  
Lucrecia giggled in amusement before taking his arms and standing up. He came out easily, a few rocks conveniently shifting around him as Lucrecia pulled. "You have to admit, it was a little bit fun."  
  
"And very carthartic, I can well imagine." Hojo straightened his glasses. "I'm quite glad you've overcome that personal demon, my dear, but next time, do try not to bury me in rock while you do so."  
  
"I'll certainly make an effort," Lucrecia chuckled, kissing him on the cheek.  
  
"Excellent. What do you plan to do with the waterfall?"  
  
"Oh, I'll rebuild it eventually." She waved her hand dismissively. "I'd like to have the rubble to look at for a while, though. If you don't mind."  
  
Hojo shook his head, smiling despite himself. "As much time as you need, Lucrecia."  
  
"Thank you, Yamaki." She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. "For now, though, shall we go and see Rowan and Seth?"  
  
"I suppose so, if you're up to it."  
  
"I am." She playfully hit his arm. "Let's go see them."  
  
-  
  
Aerin clutched at the Princess Guard, holding her cloak around her tightly as she followed Vincent out into the chill air. Her panic-stricken mind ran through a number of unrelated thoughts, ranging from 'how am I supposed to do this?!' to 'is the Candle still burning?' to the utterly absurd 'did I remember to sweep Mom's atelier before I left home?'.  
  
"She'll be here any moment now," Vincent shouted, dashing through the snow and reaching for his gun. "We have to get out of the town before she gets here!"  
  
Aerin panted as she frantically tried to keep up with Vincent's inhuman pace. She started to call out to him, but anything she might have said was swallowed by the report of Vincent's gun as he stopped and fired into the sky. Looking up at where he had aimed, Aerin staggered back in panic, raising her staff defensively.  
  
Jenova had arrived.  
  
-  
  
"Should we get moving, or would you rather stay here for a bit?"  
  
Seth's head came up quickly from where it was resting on his knee. "Oh, sorry - did you want to go?"  
  
Rowan put his hands behind his head and leaned back against the cave wall, stretching leisurely. "Oh, it doesn't matter. I was just asking."  
  
"Oh. I kinda wanna stay," Seth said quietly, looking back up at his Yggdrasil.  
  
Rowan's eyes softened and he scooted over to put an arm around Seth's shoulders. "Homesick?"  
  
"...A little bit."  
  
"Wanna hear a secret?" Rowan gave Seth a sideways grin.  
  
Seth returned the grin with a sardonic smirk. "Sure. What?"  
  
"I get homesick too."  
  
Blinking at his father, Seth suddenly burst out laughing, provoking the same response from Rowan. It felt good, being treated a little bit like a kid again, sitting here in his favorite place, bathed in Mako-light and being here with his father. It was a warm and comforting mix of both his earliest and last memories of Nibelheim. And if only for a moment, it was enough to keep the homesickness at bay.  
  
Minutes later, when the echoes of their laughter had faded, Seth turned to face his father, eyes bright and grinning.  
  
"We should make a Nibelheim," he said.  
  
"Oh, come on."  
  
"No, I'm serious. We can move Mt. Nibel or something, right? We can put Nibelheim together, just you and me. And... and when Mom comes here, it'll be the three of us again." His face and voice softened. "Wouldn't that be great?"  
  
When Rowan spoke, his tone was hushed, but he was smiling. "You're a dreamer, Seth."  
  
"Best damn way to be."  
  
Rowan looked at his son for a moment, then let out a short bark of laughter and shoved him playfully. "You're my kid, all right. You're definitely my kid."  
  
"Was there ever any doubt?" Seth said with a grin. Even as he said it, the look on his face suddenly turned to one of surprise, then of wonder. Rowan blinked and tilted his head slightly, and then Seth spoke again.  
  
"...There wasn't, was there."  
  
"Seth?" Rowan raised an eyebrow curiously, watching as a huge grin spread over his son's face for no visible reason. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"Uh, no." Seth shook his head quickly as though coming out of a reverie, but he didn't stop grinning. "I think I just realized something really, really important."  
  
"Hey, good for you. Mind sharing with the class?"  
  
Seth laughed brightly. "It's gonna sound stupid, but I think I just figured out who I am."  
  
-  
  
Jenova descended almost leisurely, seeming to take Vincent's gunshots in stride. He managed to shoot the whole clip off before the alien woman even touched the snow. Aerin stared, paralyzed, as Jenova landed, seemingly unfazed by the multiple bleeding bullet wounds.  
  
"Vincent, my dear boy," she said in a lilting tone, "you are making this all far more difficult than it has to be."  
  
Vincent's only response as he tried to load a new clip into Death Penalty without taking his eyes away from Jenova was a gutteral animal snarl. As Jenova sauntered slowly forward, he took a step back, not breaking eye contact.  
  
Aerin saw it too late. She knew what Jenova was doing; once, when Illyra had needed a kind of serpent venom for an antidote, Aerin had seen her do this to charm the snake.  
  
Even as her mouth opened to warn Vincent of the deception, Jenova darted forward, wrenching the Death Penalty out of Vincent's hands with such force that Aerin could hear the metal bending as Vincent's claws were bent out of shape. By the time Vincent reacted, Jenova had already leapt back out of his reach. She let out a cruel, triumphant laugh as, with her bare hands, she bent the barrel of the gun into uselessness and tore the bullet chambers open. As she tossed the mangled rifle aside, her laughter masked the sound of it hitting the snow.  
  
-  
  
"...Who you are," Rowan repeated dully.  
  
"I told you it'd sound stupid - but I swear it's actually really important - okay, remember how I said I was trying to save the world?"  
  
"Yeah...?"  
  
"Well... geez, um, where do I start? Um... okay, Mom and I were going to see Aunt Lena in Midgar, right? And we went to the big museum, yeah, I swear this is relevant, and I started hearing a voice in my head, okay?"  
  
Rowan gave Seth a look of worry edging towards terror.  
  
"It's not as bad as it sounds, really. It turned out to be a talking sword. ... And that doesn't sound any better. Okay, well... fuck it. I'm the reincarnation of Sephiroth. Was the reincarnation of Sephiroth. When I was alive."  
  
Seth burst out laughing again at the absolutely blank look on his father's face.  
  
"And now you think I'm crazy. But I swear it's true - I can wield his sword, and I'm the only one who can. And I've been remembering things from his life... It messed me up. I was so freaked out about it... I guess I thought I was going to turn into him or something."  
  
"But-- how would that even be possible?" Rowan said lamely, having some trouble dealing with this news.  
  
Seth grinned widely. "That's what I just realized, Dad. It wouldn't be."  
  
-  
  
Vincent stood absolutely motionless for a moment, eyes wide in complete and utter disbelief. Aerin looked between the two of them - Vincent, unmoving, robbed of his gun and with his claw now a useless weight on his arm; and Jenova, wearing a look of ecstatic triumph, the ruins of Vincent's gun to her left.  
  
Days of hard journeying came to mind. All the time she had spent at Seth's side, the seashore at Costa del Sol and the farewell at Mideel, Seth's graceless death at this horrible woman's hands, and the memories of everything she had endured since leaving the canyon struck her in one screaming rush.  
  
The world blurred around her as she raised her staff and charged.  
  
-  
  
"I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out. Mom told me, Aerin told me, but I was so wrapped up in my stupid existential angst... and all that time, I was just about convinced that if I dropped my guard for a second I'd be slashing people up and summoning meteors..." Seth laughed, feeling wonderfully light and almost giddy. Now that he really thought about it, he couldn't imagine what he'd ever been worried about. Hadn't it been obvious to everyone else, even Vincent, that Sephiroth and Seth were ultimately two different people?  
  
Rowan shook his head, grining helplessly. "Somehow, Seth, I doubt that ever would have happened."  
  
"And you're totally right!" Seth grinned. "I can't tell you how glad I am that I finally sorted that out..."  
  
'Too bad I couldn't have done that while I was still alive,' he thought passingly, but in the mood he was in, even that somber thought couldn't drag him down.  
  
-  
  
The sun had long ago set in Cosmo Canyon, and it was only by the light of the stars and the Candle that Cloud and Nanaki made their way grimly down the stairs. Most of the village had turned out to watch their departure. Nobody had said anything at all.  
  
Cloud shrugged his shoulders, the familiar weight of his armor feeling entirely too heavy at the moment. The Ultima Weapon hung on his back, dormant and harmless while out of his hands. Nanaki padded beside him, Master Summon set into his jangling headdress.  
  
The call to arms had already been made. Cid had sworn a blue streak on receiving the news, but had promised to see what he could do about getting the Highwind up on short notice. The last fifteen minutes had been full of short, urgent calls to the remaining members of AVALANCHE.  
  
It appealed to the romantic in Cloud's heart that every last one of them had agreed to come.  
  
-  
  
The next thing Aerin knew, she was lying on her back in the snow. A huge purple-furred beast stood between her and Jenova, snarling and snapping. Jenova had a grip on its neck and one of it shoulders and was only barely managing to keep it away at arm's length. Despite that, she was smiling.  
  
"You don't get it," she said. "You cannot win, Vincent. My son's sword is useless, your gun is broken. There is no weapon that can break through the Black Materia and defeat me!"  
  
The beast seemed to actually hesitate for a moment, whining uncertainly. Jenova took the opportunity to fling it aside, and it landed in the snow with a pained yelp. Feeling as though her blood had heated, Aerin rose up out of the snow like a tiny, dusty avenging angel.  
  
"You're forgetting the Planet's last weapon," she shouted, ignoring the tiny little voice in the back of her head that was screaming 'She can throw you around like a toy, she could crush you without half thinking, and you're trying to get her attention?!"  
  
"What? You? You're pathetic!" Jenova laughed, high and cruel and hysterical. Behind her, Aerin could see the discarded beast rising slowly to its feet. Her grip tightened on the Princess Guard. "I shouldn't even bother killing you!"  
  
The staff's Phoenix emblem seemed strangely alive, the staff oddly warm in her hands. In that precise moment, Aerin knew exactly how Phoenix would help her.  
  
Raising the staff, Aerin felt oddly calm as a slight wind began to whip around her, kicking up flakes of snow. The Princess Guard seemed to resonate with birdsong, and Aerin drew in a deep breath.  
  
"This," she screamed, "is for Seth's life!!"  
  
The Phoenix rose in her mind then, and for a moment she saw nothing but a torrent of green, a rush of fire, and then a pair of deep green eyes.  
  
-  
  
"I wish I could tell Aerin."  
  
"Aerin?"  
  
"She's this girl from Cosmo Canyon," Seth said brightly. "I met her after I found Sephiroth's sword. It's a long story."  
  
Rowan laughed heartily. "Hey, we've got time. I wanna hear about my little boy's girlfriend."  
  
"She wasn't my girlfriend!" Seth protested, slightly wishing that it hadn't been true. His elation from earlier was turning into a knot in his chest. "I mean, I like her, but--"  
  
"No, never mind, it's okay," Rowan said, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. "I shouldn't be asking about every detail of your life this soon. You can tell me later."  
  
Seth nodded, and then abruptly shot to his feet. "Dammit - can we go back, Dad? I feel really restless all of a sudden."  
  
Looking taken aback, Rowan nodded and got to his feet. "Sure... let's go."  
  
-  
  
Galian Beast stared at the scene before him, his jaw hanging slack. The voices in his head were absolutely silent as well, and the beast could imagine that they were all wearing very similar expressions.  
  
Aerin was statuesque in the snow, her arm absolutely steady as she held out the staff. Her cloak had slid off her shoulders at some point and now lay pooled around her feet. Above her, shining against the night sky, the Phoenix hovered, beating her massive, fiery wings to keep herself aloft. Aerin's skirt billowed and flared in the wind produced by Phoenix's wings, and her hair was wind-whipped to the point where it almost looked like feathers. In an ever-growing circle around the two of them, the snow was melting.  
  
Jenova didn't seem nearly as impressed as Galian Beast thought she should have.  
  
"I've dealt with worse than summoners in my time," she said arrogantly, and turned her gaze up to Phoenix with a cruel smirk. "There is no force of this Planet that can defeat me now. But you can try."  
  
As Phoenix narrowed her eyes in anger at Jenova, Aerin's voice came out hoarse and croaky.  
  
"We will," she said.  
  
She sank into a battle stance, adjusting her grip on the Princess Guard; and as she ran forward with the staff raised, Phoenix surged forward as well with a powerful beat of her vast wings. Following Aerin and Phoenix's lead, Galian Beast dropped to all fours and charged. Taking an unhurried step back, Jenova spread her wings as her right arm lengthened into a blade once more.  
  
Some small part of Aerin's mind couldn't help but think there was something ominous about this. Outnumbered and outgunned, with three foes bearing down on her at once, Jenova smiled.  
  
-  
  
The very second Seth stepped out of the cave, he gasped, clutched his chest, and doubled over in shock. Rowan was at his side almost immediately, helping Seth up by elbow and shoulder. Seth's eyes were wide and startled. He had forgotten to maintain the illusion of breath.  
  
Rowan had never seen anything like this happen on the island before.  
  
"Seth, what's wrong?!" he demanded. In the course of the last fifteen minutes, he'd seen his son space out entirely, heard him admit to being the reincarnation of an insane megalomaniac, and now had witnessed him having what appeared to be some ghost equivalent of a heart attack. He felt perfectly justified in panicking.  
  
"It's like--fire--"  
  
Before Rowan could reply, Seth pulled himself up a bit and stared up at the sky with wide, wild eyes, his movements rough and jerky. He seemed to be looking for something.  
  
"Dad--" his voice came out strangled "--Dad, I have to get out."  
  
"Out of where? The mountains? What?" Rowan was fully aware he sounded a little shrill, and didn't care. Somehow, something was wrong with his son.  
  
"Out of... off the island," Seth said, as though only just realizing it himself. "I've got to get off the island."  
  
He paused for a moment.  
  
"Why the hell do I have to get off the island?"  
  
"Good question!" Rowan stared at his son, utterly disbelieving. "You just got here, and you're going into the stream already?!"  
  
"Not the stream," Seth said vaguely, and shook his head, shrugging out of his father's grip. "I have to go. I don't know why, but -- Dad, I just have to go..."  
  
"Seth, you can't just fade out now!"  
  
"I'm not going to fade out," Seth said, and he stepped forward, intending to follow the path down the mountain. Rowan grabbed his elbow, stopping him. "Dad, let go of me!"  
  
"I don't want to lose you!" Rowan said, his voice high and desperate. "Seth, I love you! I just got you back, I don't want to lose you again!"  
  
Turning to meet his father's frantic eyes, Seth thought he understood another part of why Rowan had not fully accepted his own death. And he suddenly felt sorrier than he had ever felt in his life.  
  
But the feeling of fire in his chest was intensifying, and with it the inexplicable compulsion to leave. He didn't want to leave Rowan either, not after just meeting him again, but for reasons he could not understand or explain, he couldn't stay here any longer.  
  
"Dad," he said, his voice cracking, "I have to go. I have to."  
  
Rowan seemed to be fighting an internal battle, and finally, with a strangled sigh and a look of agony in his eyes, he released Seth's arm.  
  
"If you have to... then let's go."  
  
-  
  
Aerin picked herself up out of the snow, shaking it out of her face and hair and craning her neck to look up.  
  
As they had drawn close to her, Jenova had sprung into the air and smoothly arced away, putting Aerin and Galian Beast suddenly on a collision course with each other. The beast had thrown its weight back and dug its heels in to halt its forward momentum, spraying Aerin with snow in the process. She had barely recovered before she had seen wings sprout from the monster's back and watched as Chaos rose in a flurry from the snow.  
  
Snow which was rapidly melting into slush. The heat from Phoenix was not uncomfortable, but it was more than enough to destroy the snow. Aerin felt a brief pang as she thought of Seth, but stifled it. There would be time for proper mourning later. Now she had to concentrate on the battle.  
  
Not that she was really involved in it by now. It seemed to be a purely aerial fight already, which was far beyond the scope of her own abilities. She couldn't help feeling slightly put out, but she stifled that too and watched the battle.  
  
Phoenix was surprisingly agile for her size, banking and arcing away from Jenova's attacks while doing her best to strike with her beak and talons. Chaos weaved between the two of them, slashing at and interfering with Jenova; at one point, Phoenix actually turned and soared at a distance to give Chaos an opportunity to attack alone. Despite Jenova coming off visibly worse from that encounter, Aerin could just barely hear her laughing.  
  
That was very disconcerting, she thought as Chaos backed off and Phoenix swooped down, managing what looked like a terribly deep cut on Jenova's shoulder. A few of the last stubborn drifts of snow were flecked red with blood.  
  
Just Jenova's blood.  
  
Aerin felt a short surge of panic. Despite preparing herself for battle, Jenova hardly seemed to be fighting back... neither Chaos nor Phoenix had appeared to take a single blow thus far - in fact, Jenova hardly seemed to have been trying to land one. And though she had already taken what looked like enough of a beating to kill anything her size, she was still flying as gracefully as before... Squinting, Aerin could see that Jenova's skin, previously crisscrossed with countless wounds from Chaos's claws and spotted with bullet wounds, was now clear and unbroken again. Aerin's heart gave a funny jump at that realization.  
  
Jenova was making a game of the battle for the Planet.  
  
-  
  
Zair had never ridden so fast in his life.  
  
Strife was racing through the snowfields at speeds even he had probably never known he could reach, with little to no urging from Zair. He seemed to have understood the urgency of the situation from Zair's panicked shriek of "Sleeping Forest! Now!" as he had burst into the stables.  
  
Chocobos, Zair mused briefly, were a hell of a lot more intelligent than a lot of people gave them credit for.  
  
-  
  
"Ah, Seth! Are you two done so soo--"  
  
Lucrecia blinked in befuddlement as Seth strode past her without responding. Turning her head to see Rowan following down the path, she squawked as the engineer passed right between her and Hojo, grabbing an elbow from each and dragging them along.  
  
"Rowan, what in the world is the meaning of this?" Hojo demanded, breaking loose from his friend's grip but keeping stride beside him.  
  
"Seth's got some mad notion," Rowan said. "I think he's going into the stream."  
  
"What?!" Lucrecia followed her husband's example, hurrying along beside Rowan. "What do you mean? He can't! He's just barely got here."  
  
"I know!" Rowan said tensely. "But he seems to think he's not going to fade... I have no idea what's going on. He doesn't seem to either. I'm hoping he'll figure it out by the time he reaches the shore."  
  
-  
  
The ship that had sunk down into the Canyon and now lay hovering above the ground resembled the old Highwind so well that Cloud had to admit he was impressed. Cid had spent a good five years restoring the battered ship after the narrow escape from the Crater all those years ago, and had done a remarkably good job. Even the ridiculous bikini lady had been painted back on.  
  
It was almost a little too similar, Cloud reflected as he heaved himself over the rail and felt the familiar deck under his feet again. The ship looked just the same, and the same people would be assembling within for the same purpose as they had seventeen years ago; only Vincent was missing, and even that was familiar.  
  
Nanaki reached the top of the ladder and climbed the rest of the way onto the deck with a surprising lack of difficulty, though the crewman who had let down the ladder stood by with a vague look of concern on his face. Cloud might normally have grinned at this, but a huge weight seemed to have settled in his chest. A part of him even wanted to retreat back into the cold SOLDIER persona from seventeen years ago, if there was any chance it could save him from the sudden grip of despair. Feelings of hopelessness were not good feelings for a professional world-saver to be having, and he tried desperately to choke them off. Despite his best efforts, though, it was hard to ignore the little voice in the back of his head saying 'You fought her before, trying to get to Sephiroth... you obviously didn't kill her then... how can you do it now?'  
  
He was still trying to come up with an answer when he and Nanaki headed below deck to meet Cid again.  
  
-  
  
"Seth, just what in the hell are you thinking?" Rowan demanded, once they had stopped.  
  
"Not a whole lot," Seth returned off-handedly, staring at the green sky.  
  
"Well, that much is obvious--"  
  
"It's just - I can't explain it," Seth said, sounding distracted. "From what I understand, we come here if we're okay with dying but we don't want to give up who we are, right? And the stream is where you go when you're ready to let go of everything?"  
  
"Yes," Rowan returned a little tensely, "which is why I'm just a little bit worried that you're running off to the stream after about one day here."  
  
"I feel like I need to go," Seth said quietly. "Like something's telling me I need to. But I don't feel ready to give up yet. It's like I don't belong here at all, it's like --" He cocked his head up suddenly, just slightly, and his voice took on a tone of sudden understanding. "I need to go up."  
  
"Topside?" Rowan said in confusion. "Uh, has this voice in your head or whatever told you why, exactly?"  
  
"No, I don't even know what it is."  
  
"It could be anything, then," Hojo said suddenly, sounding a bit paranoid. "It could even be Jenova, especially if you are who I think you are--"  
  
"Yamaki!" Lucrecia said in a panicky tone.  
  
"You mean Sephiroth?" Seth said, turning to face them.  
  
Despite the severity of the situation, Rowan couldn't help but grin at the looks on his friends' faces. They had both been caught completely flat-footed.  
  
"Er, yes," Hojo said weakly.  
  
Seth shrugged eloquently. "Yeah. I am. I thought it might be Jenova too, but she's gotten in my head before and it doesn't feel like her. It feels more - honest, if that makes any sense."  
  
"It does," Lucrecia said softly. "Then, I don't suppose we had better delay you."  
  
"Lucrecia?"  
  
Hojo and Rowan had spoken at the exact same time, in the exact same incredulous tone. Lucrecia turned to face them, with a look on her face that made Hojo suddenly appreciate that she was half Cetra. In his distant, vaguely nightmarish memories, Ifalna had often worn a very similar look while he had her in his custody. It was a look that said, 'I understand things that I could never explain to you.'  
  
"Let him go," she said softly.  
  
The two men looked at each other helplessly. Hojo shrugged, and Rowan turned, scratching the back of his head, to face his son.  
  
"I don't understand a bit of this," he said truthfully. "But I guess, if you make it up... would you say hi to your mom from me? Tell her I love her."  
  
Seth grinned ear to ear and nodded. "I'll tell her everything."  
  
He had just started to trudge down the shore when Hojo cleared his throat. Seth stopped and turned around again. Adjusting his glasses, Hojo stepped forward.  
  
"As long as we're delivering messages to the living... would you extend my apologies to Vincent Valentine, if you should meet him?" He met Seth's eyes and continued, his voice low but unwavering. "What I did to him - and to you, once - is unforgivable. But I feel he should know that I..." He took a steadying breath. "I regret it more than I could ever have imagined."  
  
Seth was somewhat taken aback, and before he could recover enough to respond, Lucrecia put a hand on her husband's upper arm and added her own piece.  
  
"Yes, and while we're at it, Vincent should also know that none of it was ever his fault. Tell him that for me, Seth."  
  
Closing his eyes for a moment, Seth finally said, "I will." And then, after a moment's thought, he said "I promise."  
  
Nobody moved or spoke for a second. Then Rowan impulsively went to hug Seth tightly.  
  
"Goodbye," he said hoarsely.  
  
Seth stood still for a moment, trying to commit it to memory. He never, ever wanted his father to fade from his mind again.  
  
"Goodbye," he said softly back, before carefully pulling away from his father's arms. Taking a few steps back, he looked over the three of them one last time.  
  
Then, with a confident grin and a thumbs-up, he walked back down the shore and into the sea. As he fought forward against the tides, he reached the point where the sky met the ocean, and vanished into a wall of green.  
  
-  
  
"Will you just DIE already!" Chaos roared across the sky at Jenova.  
  
"No," she called back cheekily, easily gliding away as he swooped to attack.  
  
"You're the cause of EVERYTHING! Sephiroth's madness, the Planet's illness, the death of Lucrecia - you're the root of it all!"  
  
"You flatter me, dear Vincent!" She laughed coldly.  
  
Chaos began to charge her again, but Phoenix beat him to it, swooping down and burying her talons in Jenova's shoulders. She curved her neck to strike at Jenova's belly, almost too fast to see.  
  
It seemed to Chaos that it had happened in a second, done before he could complete a single wingbeat. Jenova, reacting almost to the suggestion of Phoenix's attack rather than the actual motion, had thrust her bladed arm up and through the firebird's neck. Far below, Aerin's scream cut through the night. Chaos went rigid with horror, barely remembering to keep himself aloft. The others in his mind began to scream.  
  
Jenova met his eyes, and he found to his horror that he couldn't look away.  
  
"This world would have killed itself whether or not I had come here," she said, and her words for the first time had the edge of long-nurtured insanity. "What I do here is no matter. This world does not matter."  
  
She pulled her blade from Phoenix's neck, and shook herself loose from the talons, watching impassively as the dying firebird fell. Numbly, Chaos followed her gaze and saw the little speck that was Aerin rushing to meet her patron beast.  
  
It didn't seem possible. It couldn't be possible. The ace up Aerin's sleeve had, unbelievably, been defeated.  
  
-  
  
Strife was beginning to tire. Zair stared resolutely ahead, trying very hard not to panic again. He could see the familiar mountains around the valley, it wouldn't be long before they were in the city and then the forest lay just beyond.  
  
-  
  
Seth had really expected a bit less of the Lifestream.  
  
As far as he had been able to see from the island, the stream was just a whole lot of green. Knowing it was the blood of the Planet, he certainly had expected it to be a little more than that - but he hadn't expected this.  
  
It didn't actually exert any pressure against his body - or what he percieved to be his body, which really wasn't an accurate perception - but entering the stream had felt like stepping directly into a mental wind tunnel.  
  
Images and memories assaulted him. Though he knew he was surrounded by green, he was barely aware of it as things that had never happened to him flashed across his consciousness. He panicked, and would probably have gone blindly running further into the stream if the word "up" hadn't suddenly made itself known through the flood. And so, barely knowing what to do anymore, he looked up and began to swim.  
  
It worked. He hadn't expected it to, but it did. The flow of foreign memories abated somewhat, and he was aware of upward motion. Encouraged, he kicked his legs harder, paddling frantically at the stream.  
  
Despite this, he couldn't completely stop the mental intrusion. He remembered a view of Wutai when it was green and beautiful, and felt an accompanying flicker of emotion - gone before he could identify it. There were images of a war, of children playing under a massive tree, of a tender meeting between secret lovers - he flagged uncertainly, and the flow of memories became stronger.  
  
It was too much, the small part of his mind that was still his own cried in despair. He couldn't make it out. Despite all his assurances to the contrary, he would fade. He would never make it back, and would never again speak to Lucy, or Vincent, or anyone.  
  
He would break his last promise.  
  
-  
  
Chaos started to fly forward, his body feeling leaden and dead. He could hardly hear anything over the horrified din in his head. And yet, somehow, he knew that he had to keep fighting. They all did, even though all hope seemed to have been suddenly and cruelly extinguished.  
  
As he flew forward, Jenova turned her head to face him. She smiled, the most hateful and chilling smile Chaos had ever seen. In his mind, Vincent recoiled from the sight. Chaos bared his teeth and readied his claws.  
  
Jenova was suddenly illuminated from below. She looked down in surprise, and Chaos echoed the action.  
  
Where Phoenix's corpse had landed, it had burst into brilliant, almost blinding flames.  
  
-  
  
At what seemed to Seth like the the absolute last moment before surrender, he was shocked out of it. The fire burned in him, more intense than ever, and the weird compulsion took hold of him once more.  
  
UP.  
  
Seth flailed, but his confused movements quickly came together and then he was swimming again. The fire was searing, and the foreign memories were ebbing again. Staring determinedly upwards, Seth kept swimming.  
  
'I am Seth Drasil.'  
  
He could actually see the green of the stream now, other people's memories were having a harder time getting into his head.  
  
'I'm from Nibelheim. I have to go home.'  
  
He could see a faint shape far above.  
  
'I have to see my mother again.'  
  
The shape was coming closer. It looked human.  
  
'I have to see Vincent again.'  
  
Yes, definitely human - floating facedown beneath the surface of the stream. He couldn't make out its features yet, but he had a guess.  
  
'I have to see Aerin again.'  
  
As he came closer to the body, Seth's suspicions were confirmed. He felt a little thrill of apprehension as his own face became recognizable through the green. Unsure of what to do at this point, he hesitantly swam closer, and then uncertainly put his incorporeal hands on his body's shoulders.  
  
Abruptly, Seth saw his own eyes suddenly fly open. Then there was a peculiar sensation of falling, and in the next moment, all he could see was green.  
  
-  
  
The fire flickered and died away, but the light did not. On her knees nearby in the snowmelt, Aerin stared in disbelief and suddenly began laughing. Jenova wore a look of complete and utter disbelief, and Chaos felt his heart soaring.  
  
Phoenix rose majestically from the ashes and embers of her flame, sending sparks in every direction as she beat her wings.  
  
Of course. They should have known.  
  
-  
  
Zion was napping uneasily beside the Lifestream crack that had become Seth's grave, emitting faint, mournful warbles in his sleep. Other than that, the gravesite was silent. The silence was not to last long.  
  
The calm surface of the Lifestream suddenly broke as Seth surfaced with a gasp like the first breath of a newborn.  
  
-  
  
"I am the Phoenix, Jenova," Phoenix said calmly as she came level with her nemesis. "I do not die so easily."  
  
-  
  
Zion, startled awake by the noise, shot to his feet with a shriek of surprise. Seth flailed in the stream, still gasping for air, seeming to have difficulty grabbing onto the side. Thinking quickly, Zion darted his head forward and managed to catch Seth's sleeve. Making a lucky grab at Zion's neck, Seth took a handful of feathers. Holding on in that awkward way, Zion dragged Seth out of the stream and onto solid ground.  
  
Seth lay on the ground, his breath still labored and harsh. His body seemed uncomfortably stiff, and for a few moments he entertained the bitter thought that resurrection sucked.  
  
Zion warbled questioningly at him, but speaking was out of the question right now, as he was still trying to get the hang of breathing again. His heartbeat thudded deafeningly in his ears. He attempted to make a sound, but all that came out was a kind of strained cry. The fact that he could make noise was kind of a comfort, and he spent the next few minutes whimpering softly.  
  
Gradually, he realized that his breath was starting to come easier, that his muscles were loosening again, and his heartbeat didn't seem quite so loud any more. It was then that it actually sank in.  
  
He was alive.  
  
He was really, truly, honestly alive.  
  
The whimpers gave way to giggles. The giggles gave way to wild, ecstatic laughter. Looking up at Zion, Seth reached up one awkward arm and petted the chocobo's fluffy neck, rejoicing at the simple fact that he could. He could do anything now. He was alive!  
  
He lay there for several minutes, petting Zion's neck, laughing for sheer, unbridled joy.  
  
-  
  
"I see," Jenova said coldly, after a long silence. "No, you wouldn't, would you."  
  
Phoenix hovered serenely, beating her wings slowly. She said nothing. Chaos fidgeted uneasily, watching the apparent cease-fire and wondering if he should do something. Jenova regarded Phoenix icily, and then seemed to think of something. She smirked. Her gaze flickered down to Aerin.  
  
Chaos wished she would have stopped to gloat. Then Phoenix might have realized what Jenova's plan was and done something. But Jenova did not stop to gloat. She went into a sudden dive, and Chaos reacted purely on reflex. He was already diving after her, Phoenix mere moments behind him, when he realized that Jenova was aiming directly for Aerin.  
  
By sheer, outright luck he managed to catch one of her ankles to stop her descent, beating his wings furiously to counter the inertia. He swung her to the side and released her, diving again and hitting the ground beside Aerin in moments.  
  
"Get down!" he hissed, and she complied instantly. He crouched over her, and had his wings tented protectively over her by the time Jenova had recovered and landed in front of them. As Chaos raised his head, he felt Vincent rising up in his mind.  
  
"Dear, dear Vincent," Jenova said in a bored tone. "What are you doing?"  
  
"As if you don't know." It was Vincent's voice now, coming low and smooth from Chaos's throat. "You will have to kill me to get to her."  
  
"You really are distressingly clever," Jenova sighed regretfully. "Though at this point, I can hardly tell if it's you or the voices in your head."  
  
"It's all of us," Vincent countered.  
  
"You know that if I kill you, you will just come back. You have too much of me in you to die."  
  
"But it will cost you time."  
  
"Time doesn't matter to me, Vincent. I have been waiting hundreds upon hundreds of years. I can wait a little longer."  
  
"You will wait forever. I have cut my strings, Jenova. I will not be your pawn again."  
  
Jenova had no reply to that. She heard the beating of fiery wings behind her as Phoenix landed elegantly on the ground. Eventually, she chuckled.  
  
"It seems that for now, we have reached a stalemate."  
  
-  
  
"C'mon, Strife, you can do it," Zair wheedled, petting his chocobo's neck. "Just a little ways further and it's all downhill from there."  
  
Strife seemed to have exhausted the store of energy that had taken him this far. He looked weakly up at the mountaintop and took a few weary steps. The peak inched closer.  
  
"Come on," Zair said urgently. "Just a little bit farther..."  
  
-  
  
The words sounded unbelievable. Vincent stared at Jenova, Chaos's face registering utter disbelief. Jenova didn't seem like one who was willing to concede anything.  
  
"For now," she clarified. "If you do not move, I cannot get at the girl, and so Phoenix will remain. If I should kill you both, it would just inconvenience me. If I try to attack or flee, at least one of you will attack me. And we have, I feel, rather dramatically demonstrated that any battle between you and I is ultimately pointless. You cannot win at present, and neither can I."  
  
At that moment, Aerin tapped Vincent on the shoulder.  
  
"Whatever you do, don't move," she hissed. "Not even if she runs."  
  
"I had no plans to," Vincent murmured towards her.  
  
Jenova tilted her head, and Vincent wasn't sure if she'd heard the exchange or not. "But you cannot stay there forever, Vincent. You must move eventually."  
  
"Don't," Aerin whispered urgently.  
  
"I will wait as long as it takes," Jenova said conversationally. "If you intend to stay here until she dies of hunger or thirst, I can wait. I have the months to spare."  
  
"Don't listen to her!"  
  
"And if you should choose to move before then to get her to safety, I will find her. And I will find a way to kill her." Jenova smiled cruelly. Chaos's body shook with Vincent's effort not to speak or attack.  
  
"Hold your tongue," Phoenix hissed.  
  
"You." Jenova turned to regard Phoenix disdainfully. "Summoned to kill me, I imagine - yet you won't do it. Is it because you know I am, in my own way, as immortal as you?"  
  
"She said hold your TONGUE!" Vincent roared. Jenova turned back to him, smiling again.  
  
"Poor Vincent," she said. "That girl is the last thing you have worth protecting, isn't she?"  
  
-  
  
His laughter subsiding, Seth decided it was time to get up. The others were somewhere up north, and Seth couldn't stand the idea of lying around when he could be going to find them. Tentatively, he dragged himself up to stand on shaky legs.  
  
Okay. It wasn't as bad as he thought.  
  
He took careful steps forward, not wanting to put too much strain on legs that were just getting used to being alive again. It seemed like eons, but he finally made it to where the Masamune was embedded in the dirt. Smiling, he reached out and wrapped his hand around the hilt.  
  
The moment he touched it, the familiar presence in the back of his mind flickered back to life. Seth felt like singing. He'd been so distracted by other things in the island, he had forgotten how much he had missed that connection. Not that he would ever admit that he had grown to like having the sword in his head...  
  
'Hey,' he thought at the blade as he tied the scabbard around his waist again, 'did you miss me?'  
  
There was silence for a minute, and then Masamune's scraping steel voice cut into his thoughts. /...Seth?/  
  
'No, that other guy who can wield you.'  
  
/...SETH?!/  
  
'Why so shocked?' Seth thought gleefully. 'Never had a master come back from the dead before?'  
  
/I have,/ Masamune replied, regaining some of its composure, /but not usually as the same person./  
  
'First time for everything!' Seth drew the sword and held it up, where it was illuminated in an eerie green. He took a moment to revel in the familiar weight of it and the perfect balance before sheathing it again. He bent down to take the cloak Vincent had left behind, nearly as an afterthought, and then walked carefully back to Zion.  
  
"Alright, Zion," he said cheerfully, "let's go."  
  
-  
  
Vincent glared hatefully at Jenova. If she was fazed at all, she gave no sign.  
  
"There is always something worth protecting," he growled.  
  
"I wonder," she said softly, "if you will still feel that way in a thousand years' time."  
  
"I will. It will not cease to be true."  
  
"Then when the Planet has rotted to the point where it can no longer sustain true life, and all civilizations have collapsed and all life gone extinct, and it is just you, and I, and perhaps dear Cloud surviving on a dead, gray, lifeless rock, you will still think it is worth protecting?"  
  
"That won't happen!" Phoenix cawed, spreading her wings in indignation.  
  
"It will," Jenova said calmly. "Because I will not die as long as my Materia is intact. It doesn't matter where it is. And the only two weapons that could have destroyed it are no longer a threat to me. Vincent's gun is ruined, and the sword is useless outside of Seth's hand. My Materia can no longer by harmed by any weapon the Planet has to offer, and therefore I will never die."  
  
"Lies," Vincent said, but his voice lacked conviction.  
  
Jenova smiled. "I never lie."  
  
-  
  
"Calm down, Zion," Seth said gently. "I know it doesn't look right, but this forest is all illusion, remember? Just follow Masamune."  
  
Zion cooed uncertainly, but trotted forward anyway. Seth was holding the sword straight out in front of him, angling it whenever a turn was necessary. Zion trusted Seth, even if it was weird and a little scary that he had been dead and was alive now, and was sure that Seth knew that he was doing. It still didn't help him get used to the fact that he couldn't see any clear path through the wood and that it frequently appeared that he was about to walk into a tree.  
  
"I can see the trees thinning ahead," Seth said encouragingly.  
  
Zion stared gloomily ahead as he walked. It seemed to him the trees only got thicker. "Wark."  
  
"We're almost out now," Seth coaxed. "Just a little further... just a bit..."  
  
Zion plodded ahead resignedly, not entirely believing it, until suddenly the thick dark woods vanished. He stopped dead at the shock, chirping in disbelief at the surroundings. He turned to look around behind him, and squawked. The forest was in fact behind them.  
  
"See?" Seth smiled and sheathed Masamune again. "C'mon, let's keep going as far as we can."  
  
This time, Zion needed no further coaxing. He warbled joyfully and shot forward into the night.  
  
-  
  
"You're horrible," Aerin whispered from underneath Vincent. "You're absolutely horrible!"  
  
"I am myself," Jenova responded.  
  
"You will not win," Vincent said hoarsely. "If... if I must follow you from Planet to Planet, through hundreds or thousands of years, I will find a way to defeat you. I will find a way, Jenova!"  
  
"Helpless to stop the ruination I will leave in my wake," Jenova added, chuckling. "You don't mind leaving behind a trail of dead worlds? Worlds you cannot save from me, despite seeing the danger long before anyone else? Well, no, I suppose you wouldn't. You must be used to that by now."  
  
Aerin screamed something, but it was drowned out by Phoenix's enraged cry. The firebird lunged forward, and Jenova couldn't move aside fast enough to avoid a gouge on the arm.  
  
"Cease this cruelty!" Phoenix screeched. "We will fight, Jenova!"  
  
Jenova looked genuinely puzzled. "You honestly wish to fight me? Even though you know it is hopeless?"  
  
"I am hope," Phoenix responded evenly. "It is not in my nature to give up."  
  
-  
  
Strife trotted easily down the shell road, grateful that the running and mountain climbing were done for the night. Once in the ancient holy city, Zair felt okay about letting Strife take the rest of the way slowly - there was no sign of Jenova following them, and Zair doubted she could catch up any time soon.  
  
This, at long last, gave him time to ponder his directive. Swinging the bag onto his lap, Zair opened it and looked inside bemusedly. One Lunar Harp, one baseball-sized orb of concentrated destruction.  
  
The idea made sense, of course. Keep the Materia away from Jenova, hopefully so she can never find it again. But Jenova had obviously gotten her hands on this particular harp, so what would stop her from getting another? Did Vincent want them to just smash all the Lunar Harps in the world, or what?  
  
He reached into the bag for the Materia, and immediately withdrew his fingers, hissing in pain. What the hell was up with that thing? Back when he was Zax, he was sure he had never seen any of Cloud's party suffer pain just from touching it.  
  
He was shaken from that particular train of thought by Strife stopping abruptly. He looked up and had his mouth open to tell Strife to keep going, but the words died in his throat as he saw what Strife had obviously seen.  
  
Somewhere, once in one of his lifetimes, he had heard of an old folk belief that black chocobos were unlucky omens, and carried the souls of the dead at night. He had frankly thought it was pretty much bullshit - unfair discrimination against some of the coolest birds ever just because of some ignorant superstition.  
  
Right now, Zair wondered if maybe the stories hadn't been somehow rooted in truth. Seeing a black chocobo trotting up the path towards him carrying what was obviously a ghost on its back certainly made a convincing argument.  
  
The ghost raised its head, and seemed to see Zair for the first time. It raised its right hand in a wave.  
  
What the FUCK were you supposed to do when a ghost on a black chocobo waved at you?  
  
Strife made a motion as if to back off or run, but before he could manage it, the chocobo and its accompanying spectre had ridden up beside him.  
  
In the tiny part of his brain that was still seeking logic rather than yammering in incoherent fear, Zair couldn't help noticing that Seth looked awfully solid for a ghost.  
  
"Zair!" Seth's ghost said. "Can't believe I found you this soon, where are Aerin and Vincent?"  
  
Zair's answer was a pathetic whimper.  
  
Seth looked puzzled for half a second, and then his face went flat as he realized what was wrong. Sighing, he reached out and smacked Zair on the side of the head.  
  
Zair's logic center hit overload and shut down, and fear was replaced with incredulity and annoyance. Rubbing his abused temple, he snapped, "What the fuck was that for?"  
  
"To prove I'm real. It's a long story, but I'm not a ghost. Where are Aerin and Vincent?"  
  
Zair narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Up north. In Icicle."  
  
"Icicle?!" Seth's jaw fell open. "Holy shit, we'll never reach them in time! What the hell are you doing down here?!"  
  
"Vincent sent me here," Zair said reproachfully, and held up the bag. "He told me to stick the Black Materia in the forest."  
  
Seth's expression changed instantly into one of joy. "All right, you've got it? Excellent, let me have it!"  
  
He realized how bad that had sounded a second before Zair recoiled and held the bag away from him.  
  
"Hell no, what would you want it for?"  
  
"The same reason I wanted it before," Seth said wearily, and slapped his forehead at the look on Zair's face. "No, not that 'before'! Look, I want to destroy it."  
  
"Can I trust you on that?"  
  
"Zair, dammit, at any moment Jenova could show up and try to blow up the world with this thing, will you please just let me have it?!"  
  
Blinking for a second, Zair handed the bag over. "Okay, that sounded convincing."  
  
"Thanks so much." Seth awkwardly dismounted from Zion, and grabbed the Black Materia from within the bag. He bit back a curse as the pain shot up his arm and then dropped the Materia on the ground, wiping his hand on his pants. "Okay... now everyone stand back."  
  
The chocobos quickly trotted several paces away as Seth pulled Masamune from its sheath. Hefting the sword with both hands, he raised it above his head, and brought it down in a shining, lethal arc.  
  
The sharp edge bit into the Materia, and then for a moment everything went white.  
  
-  
  
Watching the fight underneath the protection of Vincent's transformed body, Aerin felt something.  
  
She couldn't explain it, even to herself. It was as if there had been a silent, worldwide shudder and sigh; and then, all of her apprehension melted away. She felt like she suddenly knew something, but wasn't quite sure what. As she kept her eyes on the battle between Phoenix and Jenova, she saw Jenova suddenly falter in midair, and a peculiar feeling of relief and joy overtook her.  
  
Without knowing how, or why, she knew that they would win.  
  
In the air, Jenova whirled incredulously to face the south. Following her gaze, Aerin saw a fading column of bright green. Her first thought was that something had happened to the Lifestream, but then Jenova screamed in disbelief and outrage.  
  
Vincent protested briefly as Aerin squirmed out from under his wings and got to her feet, running in the direction of the battle.  
  
"Phoenix!" Aerin called. "We can do it now! We can win!"  
  
"I know!" Phoenix crowed triumphantly, and bore down on Jenova. Jenova turned just in time to see Phoenix approach, coated in flames.  
  
It was too bright to look at directly. Aerin threw up a hand to shield her eyes and squinted through her fingers. She supposed Phoenix had caught Jenova in her talons, but all that was visible was Phoenix's brilliant fire, Jenova lost in the flames.  
  
After a moment, Aerin barely saw something fall away from the flames. The conflagration surrounding Phoenix flickered out, but the falling thing kept burning. Before it reached the ground, the fire died away.  
  
There was nothing left for it to burn.  
  
Aerin sank to her knees, stunned and too overjoyed to speak. Vincent staggered over to her as Phoenix landed, finally taking back his own shape as he too fell to his knees.  
  
"It's over?" he croaked, looking dazed. "How?"  
  
"Something happened," Aerin said, her voice unsteady. Phoenix bowed her head to Aerin's level, and Aerin gratefully stroked the great feathery neck. "Some kind of miracle... oh, Vincent, we've won!"  
  
- 


	16. Chapter 16 Said and Done

Chapter 16 - Said and Done

-

A/N: Wow.

It's been about four years since I started writing this thing. Four years ago, Seth was just a little kid without a name poking at my brain and wanting to be written about... I'm glad I finally managed to bring him this far.

Everyone who's stuck with me through my inexcusably long hiatuses, I thank you profusely. I hope this chapter's a suitable ending. :) I am planning a short epilogue (and I hear you all screaming in agony now XD) but as far as the main story goes? It's done. Seth's battle is done, and I hope you've all enjoyed this half as much as I have.

With no further ado, and after a terribly long wait, I present to you chapter 16.

-

Zair lay flat on the Cetra bed, closing his eyes and gratefully relaxing into the mattress. It occurred to him that he had spent most of his day on Strife's back, with only a short rest in Icicle, and the days before that mostly on a raft; his body was now registering its complaints about this treatment. His back and neck ached, and his legs felt weak and tired. The bed was wonderfully soft, it was relatively warm inside the shell house, and Zair relished the chance to simply try to relax for a little while.

For over half an hour, Zair's thoughts didn't wander beyond the confines of the bed as he dozed in blissful, pillow-filled silence. Just as he was about to fall entirely asleep, however, Strife let out a sleepy coo and shifted his fluffy head on the side of the mattress, inadvertantly poking his beak into Zair's side. Startled back into full consciousness, Zair scooted away, and then sat up with a sigh.

The birds had come inside with them. Zair had wanted them to stay outside like the night before, but Zion had put up a holy fuss about being left by the door, obviously wanting to stay with Seth. And, of course when Zion had insisted on coming inside, Strife had gotten all indignant and annoyed until Zair was forced to let the massive gold come inside too. The end result was that you couldn't get to the door without having to climb over mountains of feathers that pecked you if you stepped wrong. Zair had pleaded desperately with Seth to control his bird, but Seth hadn't said anything, just shrugged helplessly and grinned vaguely.

Seth hadn't said anything since shattering the Materia, actually. Zair recalled the massive explosion of Mako that had erupted from the sphere when Masamune struck it, and the way it had all seemed to rush through Seth like a lightning rod in reverse. He also recalled Seth standing dead still after the light had rushed through his chest and his head and his hair, looking wind-whipped and shell-shocked. Turning his head to look at the other boy, Zair wondered uneasily what all that Mako had done to his head.

And how insane was that - worrying about the welfare of a dead kid? Zair shook his head in disbelief. Just last night, Seth had been dead. He'd seen it happen, had seen Aerin kneeling by Seth's side, had been witness to her hysterics at his passing. Seth had died, there was no doubt about it. But Seth himself had apparently not gotten the memo.

Crawling to the foot of his bed, Zair peeked over Seth's pillow for a discreet look-see. Seth certainly looked solid enough. The mattress sank slightly underneath him, so he had weight. Studying the other boy carefully, Zair determined that he did seem to be breathing.

Incredible.

"So, Seth."

Seth tilted his head slightly.

"You seriously back with us?"

Seth nodded. Zair sat back on his heels and marveled for a second. He felt nearly giddy, and for a second he thought he had to be dreaming. Maybe they hadn't gone to Icicle yet, and everything that had happened in the last day had all been a crazy dream. Feeling silly for doing it, Zair pushed back one sleeve of his jacket and pinched the exposed wrist harshly. It stung like hell.

So.

"Mind if I ask how?"

Zair watched as Seth's shoulders rose and fell in a helpless shrug. He frowned.

"Sure you're all there? Say something, you're making me nervous."

Seth rolled over onto his side and pushed himself up on one elbow, looking back over his pillow to meet Zair's gaze. A faint green glow followed the motion of his head, and Zair felt suddenly apprehensive. Seth's eyes had acquired a dim but unmistakable Mako light. Zair's mind ran with panicked thoughts of Cloud in his wheelchair and Sephiroth crystallized in Lifestream.

"Yeah, so," he said, trying to sound casual about it, "are we totally sure that Mako didn't fuck your head?"

Zair jumped as Seth chuckled unexpectedly, the first actual sound he'd made since the explosion. But he didn't speak, and Zair finally gave up, throwing himself back against his own pillow. Strife jerked back his head in surprise, and Zair reached out to pet him in conciliation.

Despite his earlier languor, he was unable to sleep for several more hours.

-

Huddled under the heavy blankets, Aerin turned over for the third time in the last half hour. Fed up with lying still, she sat up and hopped out of bed, trailing blankets behind her. Although the room was heated, she still shivered a little as she padded to the window and looked out at the village.

It looked pristine in the starlight. The only sign that there had been any disturbance was the multitude of footprints in the snow, leading from every doorway and melting into a huge, confused mass. Aerin smiled and shook her head, remembering the earlier chaos. Everyone in the village had seen the light show and wanted to know what had just happened, and if they were safe. Aerin had been answering the same questions for at least ten minutes before Vincent finally wrapped a protective arm around her and forced a way for them out of the throng. Aerin had barely managed to hold on to the Princess Guard, and in the confusion had forgotten her cloak entirely. She would have to remember to go get it in the morning.

Following the trail of footprints, her gaze finally landed on the night's battlefield, discernible only as a darker patch against the snow. Her heart gave a funny little jump.

It had been the life of the Planet they had fought for, triumphing against all reason over an undefeatable enemy. The Planet would begin to heal now, Aerin thought. The cracks would close up, the plants would return to the places ruined by war and pollution, the existence of all future generations was assured... and the only physical evidence of the battle that had decided it all was a melted patch in the snow.

Aerin's breath formed a cloud over the window glass, obsuring her vision. Turning away, she returned to her bed and sat on the edge, arms wrapped around herself to keep in the warmth.

Restless, she tossed her head up to stare at the ceiling. How were you supposed to go quietly to bed and sleep after a night like that? She wondered if Cloud had managed it the night after his last battle, or if he too had lain awake, his body filled with nervous energy and his head filled with thoughts of the battle, and of what it had taken to get there.

Had Cloud missed Aerith as bitterly as Aerin missed Seth now?

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Aerin buried her face in her arms and began to weep quietly. She wasn't sure of how much time had passed before she heard the sound of her door opening, followed by the weight of someone next to her bed. She startled and jerked her head up to see who it was, expecting Zair or, for a crazy moment, even Seth.

In the dim moonlight, she saw his face and relaxed. "Vincent," she whispered.

"...I heard you crying," he said in a low voice, awkward and uncertain.

He didn't go on, and Aerin didn't reply. Instead she flung herself against his shoulder, throwing her arms around him, and letting out a gasping, raw sob.

If Aerin had had her way, the victory night would have been spent in celebration, all four of them alive and unhurt and together. But if it was necessary that she spend it in mourning, then she was glad not to be doing so alone.

-

The edge of the sky was lightening as the Highwind sailed gently through the air above the western sea. Wutai was just coming into view over the horizon. One of Cid's trainee pilots was at the wheel, Cid having retired hours ago to rest up for the battle.

Nearly all of the surviving AVALANCHE members were on board now, and Cloud suspected that he was the only one out of all of them who was still awake. Cid had retired to the cabin shortly after they had picked up Tifa from Costa del Sol, leaving the flying to one of his trainee pilots. One by one, the other fighters had joined him. Even Cait Sith stood deactivated in a corner, with Reeve probably at home in a cushy bed. The bastard. Cloud had managed only a couple hours' restless sleep after tossing and turning for most of the night.

Restlessly, he wandered the corridors of the Highwind. Cid didn't show it much, but he really was a romantic at heart - the Highwind had been so faithfully restored that Cloud wouldn't have known the difference if he hadn't been on the ship when it had gotten in Holy's way. As he climbed up the stairs to the deck, Cloud thought that he would almost have preferred to be riding a brand-new airship, one that he could get lost in. At the very least, it would have given him something to do. And it certainly wouldn't be reminding him quite so much of AVALANCHE's last battle together.

When he stepped out onto the deck, he was surprised to find that he wasn't alone. Tifa was there as well, going through her katas and seemingly unaware of his presence. He shut the door quietly and went to the railing, letting Tifa finish her routine.

They were over the middle of the island when he became aware of Tifa's presence next to him.

"It's greener than it was," she observed quietly.

Cloud turned his head to face her silently. "They've been working hard to repair the war damage here since the battle," he said. "Yuffie said it's only really started showing in the last five years or so."

Tifa nodded once, and rested her elbows on the railing. "The Planet's getting back on its feet after all this time." She took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh, frowning. "It could be knocked down again so easily..."

"I know," Cloud murmured.

There was a companionable silence for a while between the two. Idly, Cloud reflected that after Nanaki, Tifa was probably his closest friend. He had an understanding with her that was, in some ways, deeper than that between he and the cat. It had been Tifa, after all, who had walked around in his mind and helped put his fragmented memories together.

"I'm glad we lived to see this day," Tifa said at last, in a quiet tone. "If there had to be another battle, I'm glad we're the ones to fight it."

"Yeah," Cloud concurred after a momentary pause. "At least most of us made it here."

"You don't really think that Vincent...?"

"I don't know. I... really hope not."

"Me too," Tifa said softly.

The city of Wutai was coming into view. Cloud dipped his head.

"Aerin's out there," he said hoarsely. "I have no idea where, or if she's even alive or..."

Tifa straightened up beside him and put her hand on his shoulder. Cloud turned to face her.

She had changed so much with time - her face had filled out a little more, her hair had been cut short, and there were a few smile lines around her eyes. She had once been one of the palest members of the team, but had tanned in the Costa del Sol sun until she was a shade darker than even Cloud's new Cosmo brown. When she had boarded the airship earlier, Cloud had felt something twist in his chest. She had aged. He had not.

But some things changed less than others. The look of gentle concern on Tifa's face was one that he had seen seventeen years ago.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Tifa said. "From everything you've told me about her over the years..."

"Yeah," Cloud said uncertainly. "Yeah... she's tough. But--"

"Heeeeeeeeey...!"

Startled, both Tifa and Cloud turned in the direction of the distant cry. Atop the very peak of Da-chao Mountain, a small figure clad in black was jumping up and down, waving a long torch. The two fighters on the deck exchanged a long look and a grin.

"Yuffie," they said in unison.

Some things really didn't change at all.

-

"Hey, you, lazy-ass," a cheerful voice said, cutting through Zair's dreams. For a moment he thought blearily that he was back in Cosmo and hearing Cloud. Memory soon provided other evidence.

"Got yer voice back," Zair observed, his voice tired and weak. There were tiny aches scattered all over him; and his body, already looking ahead to the upcoming chocobo ride to wherever the hell he was supposed to go now, was saying "fuck that and go back to sleep".

"Yeah, my head was kind of crowded last night," Seth said nonchalantly, kicking the side of Zair's bed. "Come on, dude, it's like ten already. The birds are outside and they're bored. There's half a bag of trail mix for breakfast if you want it."

Zair seriously contemplated going back to sleep just to spite the other boy, but then he sat straight up. "Crowded?"

"Memories," Seth grimaced, shaking his head. "It took me all last night just to sort everything out, it was like about eighty million people just dropped their baggage in my head and ran. I now know more than I ever wanted to know about Jenova's Planet."

Zair surveyed him worriedly. "You know, you've kind of got a bad track record with finding stuff out about Jenova you didn't need to know."

Seth waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, well, last time it was personal and I was about as stable as a behemoth on a chocobo egg. I'll be fine, there's just like this huge pile of stuff in the back of my head. I'll write a novel about it someday or something."

"Damn," Zair said eloquently, feeling a pang of sadness as he got up slowly from the haven of comfort that the bed offered. "You musta got it sorted out damn fast, if you're this fucking chipper today."

"Nah. I don't think I actually even shut my eyes for more than five seconds." At Zair's incredulous stare, Seth laughed. "If we were still using Mako as power, I think you could light Midgar for at least a day by hooking me up to a reactor. I don't think I'm gonna sleep for, like, a week."

"I don't think that's a recorded symptom of Mako poisoning," Zair muttered, grabbing Strife's saddlebags and the satchel with the harp.

"How about being dead and then marinating in Lifestream for a couple days before being resurrected?" Seth shrugged, and grinned. "I hope I have some kind of weird lasting effects from this. I can confuse doctors for the rest of my life."

"Your eyes are still glowing," Zair offered helpfully as they made their way down to the exit of the shell house.

"Oh, yeah! Awesome, I can see in the dark then. And I can hide in dark corners and scare the crap out of people!"

They came out of the house and into the sunlight, and Zair burst out laughing. "Holy shit, you sound like me now. When I first got into SOLDIER, you know how much I liked to abuse the eyes?"

Seth laughed loud and bright, and everything was suddenly smooth and easy between the two as they saddled up their chocobos, scavenged new blindfolds for Seth and Zion, and prepared to leave. By the time they were nearly over the mountains and Zair was handing the empty bag of trail mix back to Seth, he had nearly forgotten that Seth had ever been dead.

-

Sunlight streamed in through the window, filling the inn room with light and hurting Aerin's eyes as she woke up.

Stubbornly, she shuffled down in bed and pulled the covers up over her head. It felt like much too early to be awake. She was, in fact, fully determined to go back to sleep, and she might have succeeded except for the noise.

It was a small, repetitive creaking sound that she couldn't quite shut out under the downy blankets, and it was coming from somewhere inside the room. She wanted to ignore it, but after several minutes with no apparent break in the sound, she finally sat up to see.

Vincent was hunched awkwardly over a small table in the room, methodically bending his ruined fingers back into shape. He seemed fully absorbed in his task. Aerin shifted forward, staring frankly at the process.

"Good morning," he said calmly, causing Aerin to jerk and guiltily tear her gaze away from his claws. "I hope you slept well."

Aerin sat back, pulling the covers up and drawing her knees to her chest. "I did, thank you."

"I've ordered breakfast, it should be ready in about half an hour," Vincent said, finishing the repair to his index finger with a last almighty wrench and then tapping each claw against the tabletop. "Hmph. The metal's been weakened. It won't hold as well now. I might have to find the schematics and see if Cid can cast me a new one."

"... That was very kind of you," Aerin said sheepishly, not quite sure what to say.

When all was said and done, what did you say? The journey was over, and their goal had miraculously been achieved. Jenova was dead and the world would live. What came next? Mumbled goodbyes and quiet journeys home?

Vincent turned his head to gaze at Aerin silently. Aerin doodled a pattern on the bedsheets with her finger, lost in thought.

"I explained everything to the people of Icicle when I went down to order," Vincent said softly. "They were all gathered in the inn, wanting to know the news. I answered all their questions."

"That's good," Aerin murmured.

Vincent nodded almost imperceptibly, and said nothing. Aerin crossed her arms over her knees and closed her eyes. She felt suspended in time, as though this moment would be all there was.

Across the room, she heard the chair creak as Vincent got up, and the dull thud of his footsteps as he moved to the window.

"We really did win, didn't we?" she said softly, opening her eyes.

Vincent inclined his head slightly, but did not speak. Aerin watched him anxiously, suddenly paranoid that he would tell her that what they had done was of no use, that Jenova would just come back all over again... she had managed it before when there was only slightly more of her left than there was now...

Vincent's shoulders sagged, and he sighed, as though relieved of a great burden. "We did."

Aerin's heart jumped, and she couldn't help but smile, relaxing as well. "Then the Planet will live. We'll all live. Everything will be all right."

Vincent turned to her, the faintest of smiles on his face. "Yes. It will."

He traversed the room and sat at the foot of her bed, linking his mismatched fingers and giving a surprisingly luxurious stretch before draping his arms over his knees. "I'm surprised you needed me to tell you that, however," he said offhandedly. "You were bonded with Phoenix, you seemed to sense our victory before it happened..."

"Well... about that..." Aerin looked off to the side embarrassedly. "Phoenix... when she left, after the battle, she left me too. She'd sort of put herself inside me, I think, to help me. I don't think all this was supposed to happen so soon." She chuckled nervously. "I was supposed to be the Planet's weapon, but I guess I wasn't ready yet."

Vincent chuckled cynically. "So even the Planet has trouble meeting deadlines."

Aerin covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. "I guess so. Anyway, Phoenix is gone now, she went back to wherever it is that espers live... so, I mean, I felt like we were winning when it happened, but without Phoenix I couldn't really be sure now... so... how are you so sure, anyway?" she asked, suddenly curious.

"Jenova is in my body," Vincent said softly, ignoring Aerin's slight involuntary flinch. "Until recently she was not able to control me, but I have always felt her, as though she was standing just behind me, not making a sound, but still there..." He shook his head, bringing himself back to the topic at hand. "I don't feel that any more. Her cells will always be in my body, but the connection is closed. There is no life in her now."

Aerin sighed in relief, falling back against her pillow. "I'm glad..."

If Vincent had heard her, he gave no indication. He gazed into the distance, apparently mulling something over. And then, all at once, his eyes widened and he sat suddenly upright, a strange look coming across his face. Aerin grabbed automatically at the covers, slightly worried.

"Vincent?"

He turned, uncharacteristically animated, and reached out. She recoiled as he grasped her forearm with his right hand.

"What did she say?" he demanded, his voice urgency. "She told us she couldn't die. But she is dead. How did it happen?"

"I don't know," Aerin said, badly startled. "Vincent, what's gotten into you?"

Vincent let go of her arm and stood up, pacing the floor in long strides. "She told us very specifically that she could not die as long as her Materia was intact... And we were nowhere near the Materia..."

"Maybe she was lying," Aerin suggested, nervously rubbing her arm.

"She doesn't lie," he said insistently. "She twists the truth, she withholds vital parts of it, but she does not lie. Especially not when she has every reason to believe she has won. She was gloating, she thought her victory was assured, she had absolutely no reason to mislead us..."

"You're saying that what she said was all true?" Aerin was helplessly bewildered. "But... it doesn't make any sense! If what she said is true, there was no way we could have won, but we did anyway!"

"Aerin," Vincent said, his voice cracking at the edges with excitement. "She said there were two weapons that could destroy the Materia. One of them was Death Penalty, and she ruined it in front of me... But the other was never destroyed... Not Masamune..."

"...What?" The bottom seemed to have dropped out of Aerin's voice. "You don't... you can't mean..."

"It is the only explanation that makes any sense," Vincent persisted. "Jenova's life was safeguarded by the Black Materia. Zair took it far away, to the Sleeping Forest. The Masamune was there... Jenova's death can only mean that the Masamune was used to destroy the Materia. There is no other explanation!"

Aerin began to tremble softly. "But the Masamune is Seth's," she croaked. "And even Phoenix can't-- not for others!"

"If you can explain this otherwise," Vincent said quietly, "I am listening."

Bowing her head, Aerin took two fistfuls of the blanket. "...I want to believe it, Vincent," she said, small-voiced. "But if you're wrong, it... it's too cruel..."

Vincent moved to kneel beside her bed, looking up at her frankly. "Believe me, Aerin... I understand. But I, for once, have to hope." He laid his hand kindly on her shoulder. "And you know hope, now, better than anyone."

Aerin took in a slow, thin, breath. "I know... it's just... it would be like losing him all over again."

Vincent closed his eyes solemnly. "That, unfortunately, I understand too well. But just this once, I think it's worth the risk."

After a long, unsteady moment, Aerin raised a hand to scrub at her eyes, and turned to face Vincent. "What should we do?"

"For now, I think we should eat breakfast." The corner of Vincent's mouth quirked back in a half-smile. "It should be ready by now. Zair will likely be coming back now that it's warm enough to travel. We'll wait for him here, and then we'll see if I'm right."

Aerin looked up at him. This man, who had always been so solemn and distant, now seemed somehow more alive... looking into his eyes, Aerin wondered if she could dare to hope.

She smiled slightly.

"I guess we will."

-

Standing at the head of the cockpit, Cloud crossed his arms and took in a deep breath, letting it out as a sigh. He hadn't liked giving speeches that much seventeen years ago, and he didn't like it much more now. But AVALANCHE was gathered in front of him, all of them on their way to a reprise of the final battle. And regardless of time or age, he was still their leader.

"Well, this is it."

Scattered throughout the cockpit, his old comrades gazed back with stoic, serious eyes. All of them were here... all but the woman they'd lost years ago, and the man who had gone missing in the present.

"We're off to fight an enemy that should be dead. I wouldn't have blamed any of you if you hadn't come... but I'm glad you're all here."

There were a few scattered murmurs along the lines of "of course we came" and "what did you expect?" Cloud smiled.

"Now... you have to realize there's a strong possibility that this is a fool's errand. But maybe Jenova will actually stay dead this time. Maybe we'll find out something we didn't know before. Whatever happens, we can't give up hope. I know we're not as young as we used to be, but I think we all know... we can't turn away when the Planet needs us."

Murmurs of assent. And, Cloud thought with a stab of self-consciousness, they weren't as young as they used to be. Barret, who had taken up a more functional prosthetic after their first battle but had switched back to his old gun for this occasion, had gone slightly to seed and had grey creeping in at his temples. Tifa had her smile lines. Yuffie was no longer a young girl, but a surprisingly elegant woman. Cid, apparently opting to more closely follow the old traditions of the dragoons in his middle age, had grown his increasingly pale hair to his waist. Reeve was again unable to fight in person, but had met with Cloud when they came to pick up Cait Sith; the Shinra executive's neatly-groomed hair and beard had developed flecks of white, and many years of stress had been etched into his face. Even Cait Sith looked dusty, with threadbare patches that revealed hints of the machinery beneath.

In fact, Cloud and Nanaki were the only ones who the years had not taken their toll on. And even Cloud knew he had changed inside, profoundly and irrevocably. They were not the same people as they had been, those years ago when he had settled everything with Sephiroth.

But they were the same group, with the same hearts and the same aims, and even though all the evidence suggested that their fight was hopeless, Cloud felt no despair.

"And I don't know what it is," he said, breaking his momentary silence, "but this time I feel like we can do it. I can't explain it, but I feel more safe than I have in years. The odds may be against us, but this time, I think the Planet will be saved... No, I'm sure of it."

Yuffie's smile was the first, then Tifa's, and then Cid's cocky grin and Barret's whoop of confidence; in short order, the whole group was cheering, and Cloud's heart soared.

They were still, and always, AVALANCHE.

-

Leaning back and bracing himself against Zion's saddle with both hands, Seth arched his back and stretched.

"You know," he said, sitting straight again and pulling his cloak back over his arms, "after all this, it'll be a long time before I feel like riding a chocobo again."

"Tell me about it," Zair said with deep empathy, and then patted his chocobo's neck gently. "Strife's gonna get a nice long vacation when I get back to Mideel. All the greens he can eat, and his favorite kinds, too."

Strife warbled approvingly, and Seth laughed.

"I'll have to build a stable for Zion when I get home," he said. "Maybe I can get my mom to start growing greens in the back yard."

"Sounds like a plan," Zair said, grinning as Zion chirped his own approval. "So... what's the first thing you think you'll do when you get home?"

"Give my mom a hug," Seth answered. "Then I guess I'll tell her everything that happened... then I'm just gonna flop on my bed and not move. How about you?"

"Apologize to my parents," Zair said quietly. "I gave them so much grief over the years. As soon as I was old enough to talk, I started trying to tell them who I'd been."

Seth's mouth fell open behind the drawn-up cowl of his cape, and it was a few seconds before he could find his voice. "Uh."

"Yeah, I know. It was harsh." Zair shook his head. "And I didn't shut up about it until they believed me... So, yeah. I'm going to apologize to them."

"Good idea," Seth said, for lack of anything better, and turned his eyes ahead. "You know... I wonder how I'm going to explain the whole dying thing to my mom. I don't want to upset her, but I promised my dad I'd give her a message from him."

"Huh." Zair adjusted his blindfold. "I dunno, be gentle about it and remind her that you came back. How did you come back, anyway?"

"Damned if I know," Seth said, shrugging. "All I know was that all of a sudden I felt like I was burning up inside, and I had this compulsion to go back. Had to fight the Lifestream the whole way, too - remember what I said about going to the island?"

Zair nodded. The first thing he had wanted to know as they left the city was what had happened to Seth after he had died; upon learning that Seth had not been stuck as a ghost the whole time, he had demanded details, and Seth had explained as best he could about the island and Makoforming and the criteria for going there.

"Well... if the island's where you go when you want to keep your identity, the rest of the stream is where you go when you're ready to give it all up. And if you're not ready, the stream tries to do it anyway. Mako's just souls and memories when you get right down to it, and it tries to pick up the memories in your head when you go into the stream, whether you like it or not."

"Damn. And you made it through?"

"Yeah. I almost didn't. But then at the last minute the fire came back, and..." Seth shrugged. "Then I pretty much just kept reminding myself who I was and made my way back to my body. Thanks for dropping me in the stream, by the way, it would've sucked if you'd actually buried me or cremated me or something."

"Thank Vincent for that, not me," Zair said, wondering why this topic didn't even seem strange anymore.

"Right. So, yeah, for some reason going back to my body gave it a jumpstart, and here I am. Don't know why it worked, but I'm not gonna complain."

"Me either," Zair said with a grin. "I don't think Aerin or Vincent will, either."

"That reminds me... How's Aerin doing?" Had Seth not effectively obscured his face with his blindfold and cowl, his look of concern would have been obvious. "She seemed to be holding up okay before I left, but..."

"She's... well, she'll be doing a lot better when she sees you again," Zair said quietly. "She really missed you."

"I missed her too," Seth murmured. "That was one of the worst parts... knowing I wouldn't see her again."

Zair was starting to answer when he first heard the sound. He shut his mouth and signaled Strife to halt, tilting his head.

"What's going on?" Seth asked, looking over his shoulder when he heard Strife stop. "What--"

"Ssh," Zair said. "Hear that?"

Seth listened. And he did hear it - a faint, distant rushing sound, gradually growing louder... like some kind of great machine--

"The airship!" Zair suddenly whooped. "Seth, it's the Highwind! AVALANCHE is coming!"

"AVALANCHE? Really?" Seth laughed. "Awesome! I get to meet all of AVALANCHE! Has it been three days already?"

The Highwind was above them now and passing quickly, the roar of its engines and the wind rushing over its hull much louder now.

"I don't think so," Zair yelled back, "but I don't care! C'mon, let's hurry so we can catch up with 'em!"

"Sounds great to me!"

Zair nodded, grinning, and spurred Strife on again. The gold chocobo broke into a run, with Zion following his lead. They sprinted across the snowfields, their rider's minds already on the end of the journey as they followed the Highwind.

-

Aerin hadn't realized, until she smelled the food, just how hungry she was. She hadn't really eaten since the previous morning, and after last night's battle had been too full of adrenaline and emotions to notice her body's demands. She hadn't even felt particularly hungry as she stepped out of her room, accepting her makeshift cloak back from Vincent and wrapping herself in its folds, but as soon as she reached the head of the stairs it hit her. Food - real, honest breakfast food, pancakes and eggs and bacon and oatmeal and coffee - suddenly took priority over all her other worries.

Vincent had been very generous with his order - there were heaping plates of nearly everything on the menu at the table he guided her to, and as they sat, he had indicated that she was welcome to her share of all of it. Aerin had gratefully taken him up on it.

By the time she was finished, she had cleared away half the table under her own power, Vincent calmly finishing up the rest. Sitting back and pulling her cloak further around herself, she let out a long, contented sigh.

Warm, and full, and comfortable... it was wonderfully pleasant, sitting there all bundled up and looking out the window at the mountains and the snow fields. Even Vincent had become surprisingly agreeable company; the only thing left to tarnish this moment was her still-unrelenting grief.

She wanted to believe Vincent. She wanted to feel it, wanted to be able to bring herself to feel that hope. But Phoenix couldn't raise the dead. Aerin knew that, she'd always been taught that, she had had Phoenix inside her and had felt the truth of that. That was the firebird's limitation. She herself did not die, she could heal any wound and make you whole, and even her smallest feathers had scraps of that powerful magic inside them. But her magic depended on life. She could heal anything, right up until the last moment before death - but when that moment was over, when the light had gone out and there was no life in the body, even Phoenix was powerless to reverse it.

Maybe there'd been some other way. They'd been able to put Masamune up at Seth's grave... maybe Zair had gone to the Lifestream crack, maybe the sword had let Zair wield it for the short time it would take to destroy the Materia--

Aerin's train of thought came to a screeching halt and derailed.

'The Lifestream...'

They had put him in the Lifestream. Phoenix's power depended on life, yes... and where was there more life than the blood of the Planet?

Suddenly, Vincent's wild hope didn't seem so unreasonable...

There was a clink, and Aerin looked up quickly. Vincent had just set down his utensils, tilting his head and frowning. She blinked, a little of her enthusiasm dampening as she wondered what could be wrong.

"Do you hear that?" he murmured before she could say anything.

"Hear what?" she asked hesitantly.

Vincent didn't answer, getting up from the table and striding to and out the door. Aerin followed him hurriedly, growing concerned.

"Vincent, what is it--"

Her question was answered as soon as she stepped out the door. Coming up over the mountains was a vast machine, engines roaring as it moved across the sky.

"An airship!" she cried out in surprise. "I've never seen one before!"

"It's not just any airship," Vincent muttered, watching as the ship came ever closer. "It's the Highwind... AVALANCHE's airship."

"AVALANCHE?" Aerin gaped for a moment, and then clapped her hands together in a sudden rush of delight. "Then my brother's here!"

Vincent ignored her, staring up at the airship as it moved. Very soon it would pass over them...

"Why are they here?" he wondered to himself. "Faris wasn't supposed to call them unle--"

Realization struck him mid-sentence, and he brought his right hand up slowly to cover his face with a small, heartfelt groan. At sunset last night, he had been across the continent, in the form of the Galian Beast. And Faris had been very clear on what to do if she did not see a flare.

He had to give his old comrades credit, then. They had moved quickly.

The Highwind was over them and moving ahead to a battle that did not exist. Shaking his head, Vincent looked quickly over his shoulder at Aerin.

"Stay here," he said, simply. Without giving the girl a chance to ask or protest, he hunched over slightly and was Chaos in a second, leaping into the sky and arrowing towards the airship. Aerin gaped at the suddenness of his departure, and then huffed, stamping her foot and crossing her arms petulantly.

"It's not like I'm too heavy to carry, you know!" she yelled at the rapidly-shrinking form and turned away in annoyance.

-

Chaos lighted carefully on the deck of the Highwind, his claws clicking on the polished wood. When he stepped forward, Vincent's boots made dull thudding sounds as he made his way to the stairs.

He smiled to himself at the nostalgia of it, the metal steps making little clanking noises under his feet as he descended below deck. Seventeen years and it seemed he'd been everywhere but here, traveling all over the face of the Planet on his chocobo's back. And yet it seemed exactly the same as when he had first boarded.

The bridge to the cockpit clattered as he crossed it. Reaching out, Vincent smiled honestly as he opened the doors to meet his old friends.

It was Cloud who saw him first, standing at the head of the cockpit with all the rest of AVALANCHE gathered in front of him. The swordsman gave a start at the sight of him, dropping his heroic bearing entirely at the sight of the ex-Turk.

"VINCENT!"

And, almost as one, the others turned, eyes wide, to stare as the last member of AVALANCHE walked in as though there was nothing unusual about it.

"Yo, what is this?"

"Vincent, we thought you were out of commission!"

"Where th'hell'd you come from? Gimme a damn heart attack..."

Reaching the front of the cockpit, Vincent turned, looking at the assembled fighters.

"I'm sorry to have worried you all," he said. "I presume you are all aware of why you were called?"

"Yes," Tifa spoke up, standing. She held on to a nearby railing to hold herself steady as Cid brought the ship to a stop. "Cloud explained it to each of us when he called us together."

"We thought you were a goner, Vincent," Yuffie put in. "Why didn't you signal Faris last night?"

"Would you believe I was preoccupied?"

Cid gave a disbelieving snort, shaking his head in bemusement. His long hair rippled with the motion. "Musta been pretty fucking preoccupied," he muttered.

Vincent smirked at himself. "At the moment, I was in another shape and hunting Jenova," he said wryly. "My fault. It could have waited... I think it was for the best, however. I'm glad to see you all here."

"That's right... how's the battle going, Vincent?" Cloud turned to face him, looking concerned.

Vincent turned back to face Cloud, and the smile on his face caught the swordsman off balance.

"You shouldn't need to ask me that, Cloud," he said. "Your own body should already have told you."

Cloud looked honestly befuddled. "My own body? Wait... the Jenova cells?" At Vincent's nod, he suddenly understood. "She's dead?"

"For the final time," Vincent said, and no one there had ever seen him smile so widely before. "Cloud, it is over. We have won."

Stunned silence filled the cockpit, and then everyone was speaking all at once, with exclamations of triumph and disbelief and no end of questions for Vincent. He said nothing until Cloud finally raised his hands in a warding gesture and barked at everyone to back off. Murmuring thanks, Vincent cleared his throat and addressed the party again.

"It is a long story, and there is a lot to explain," he said. "I will start from the beginning, but first, Cid, I want you to land the ship and pick up Cloud's sister from the inn."

"How is Aerin?" Cloud asked anxiously as Cid grunted acknowledgement and turned to the ship's controls. Vincent turned to him again.

"She has... suffered, but she is unharmed. And she is the one who had the final hand in Jenova's defeat."

-

Having gotten over her momentary sulk, Aerin watched the Highwind with interest. The sound of its engines had changed as it came to a stop, and it was now idling over Icicle. She was apparently not the only one for whom this sight was a new and rare event; a few of the villagers had come out to watch the ship too.

She was just starting to wonder what it was like inside, and what was going on, when she heard a voice, far off but coming closer, calling her name.

Tearing her eyes away from the airship, she looked around, seeking the telltale flash of gold. She had a lot to tell Zair about, and she could hardly wait.

The voice came again, much closer and clearer, and from almost the opposite direction she had been looking in. Slightly embarrassed, she turned around. And felt as though her heart had stopped.

Strife gleamed in the sun as he ran between the buildings, Zair on his back raising an arm in greeting; but Aerin's eyes slid over them and fixed on the black chocobo just behind them, and specifically the chocobo's rider, shrouded in green.

The second rider's face was hidden, but Aerin could think of only one person it could ever possibly be... The chocobos sent up sprays of snow as they skidded to a halt nearby, and the green rider jumped off his mount and hit the ground running. And Aerin found herself moving too, forgetting to hold on to her own cloak as she ran forward.

The green rider tore off his blindfold and threw back his hood, and his silver hair shone suddenly in the morning sun, his painfully, wonderfully familiar face smiling and laughing, and Aerin thought it had to be a dream because there was simply no way this could really be happening, and then his arms were around her and hers were around him and oh, sweet Phoenix's fire, he was so warm and solid and there and her legs gave way and then they were falling, landing ungracefully in the snow, and he laughed so brightly Aerin's heart shattered and repaired itself in the span of a moment.

She struggled for words as she looked at him. He was smiling, his green eyes sparkling with life and laughter, and he was beautiful...

He sat up, pulling her up with him, and brushed the snow out of her hair, cupping her cheek in his hand.

"Hey," he said softly, his smile growing more gentle as he reached up to wipe away the tears that had come without Aerin even noticing. "Didn't I tell you not to cry?"

Aerin burst into ecstatic, sobbing laughter, and threw her arms around Seth's neck in lieu of words.

-

He'd missed this.

Existence on the island was an almost perfect representation of life... but it lacked substance. Even in the short time he'd been away, he had forgotten what actual touch felt like, accepting what he had felt on the island as equivalent to reality. But here, now, the snow was bitingly cold and the sun was too bright and Aerin was so very, very real in his arms... It was perfect.

Seth rested his cheek against the top of Aerin's head, smiling as he brought a hand up to pet her hair. He'd been able to see her again after all... and this time, if he had anything to say about it, he'd be sticking around a lot longer...

Aerin made a sound, muffled by his cowl. Seth pulled back slightly, tilting his head.

"Hmm?"

"I can't believe it," Aerin whispered, her voice broken through with tears and happiness. "You're real..."

Seth smiled warmly and kissed her forehead. "Yeah," he said softly. "I don't know how... but I'm here."

Aerin pulled away and wiped her eyes vigorously, giggling softly. "Geez, I-I've been such a crybaby lately..."

"You've had a lot to deal with," Seth offered quietly, catching one of her hands and impulsively bringing it up to his mouth, brushing his lips against the knuckles. Aerin looked up at him, startled, and then her expression softened.

"I guess that's true," she said quietly, bringing her other hand up to cover Seth's, bringing it to her cheek and closing her eyes, smiling gently.

Seth looked at her for a long moment. Her hair was disheveled, her face streaked with tear trails, redness tinging her dark skin from the cold, and he had never seen anything more beautiful.

She opened her eyes and looked up questioningly as he withdrew his hand, but then he pulled her into another hug and she relaxed, smiling.

"...c'mon, Vincent, let 'em have their moment..."

Aerin startled out of Seth's arms as Zair spoke, and the two of them, turned like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar, to see Vincent and Zair standing there - Vincent staring at Seth in disbelief, and Zair grinning cheekily up at the ex-Turk.

Seth coughed and chuckled self-consciously, getting to his feet and helping Aerin up as he did. He bowed his head slightly and scratched the back of his neck almost embarrassedly.

"I've got a lot of explaining to do, don't I?"

-

The day went by.

Over the Planet's central ocean, the Highwind glided leisurely across the sky. There was no need to fly at its full speed... no hurry at all. The chocobos were all on board, as were their riders and all their luggage. The journey had been difficult, but the way home would be easy.

It wasn't just Seth who had had a lot of explaining to do. The members of AVALANCHE had unanimously demanded a full retelling of the journey; before that could be done, however, Vincent had crept off to make an explanatory call to Faris. The captain had been elated to learn of Vincent's safety and the final victory, and had (rather predictably, in Vincent's mind) requested to meet AVALANCHE and congratulate the children.

The meeting with Faris alone had taken almost two hours. It turned out that she and Yuffie were reasonably well acquainted, and between their small-talk, Faris's joking proposals to marry Cid so she could divorce him for the Highwind, and all the congratulations and impromptu celebration that had taken place aboard the ship, the sun had been high in the sky before anyone had suggested retiring to the airship.

Faris was out on the seas again now, braving the early storms one more time to return home to Wutai. And the Highwind was drifting southward, aimless for the moment.

Once they had gotten underway, and Cid had entrusted the ship's piloting to one of his crew, everyone had gathered around the four who had saved the world again.

Seth was only too happy to recount everything that had happened from his perspective, only growing sheepish when it came time to explain his connection to the Masamune. The story grew slightly muddled and slow at the point where the two groups had separated, mainly because Aerin and Seth couldn't stop asking "oh, is that right?" and "so what happened then?" of each other during the telling, with Zair occasionally adding his two gil while Vincent quietly but pointedly urged them to get on with it.

When the collective narrative had reached the North Continent, however, all four had hesitated, glancing between each other as if unsure how to go on, or what really needed to be told. Yuffie and Barret had just started getting impatient when Seth finally took a deep breath and explained, as lightly as possible, the circumstances of his demise.

That came very close to sidetracking the discussion entirely, but Vincent had taken over, firmly moving on with the story and describing their continued journey north and their climactic battle with Jenova, up to the moment that AVALANCHE had arrived.

After that, the topic had returned straight to Seth, who looked more embarrassed than anything at the attention, shuffling over to sit closer to Aerin and put one arm around her.

"I told you I really don't know what happened," he said wearily, as the question of his resurrection was posed for the second time. "All I know is that I felt like I was on fire inside and that I had to get off the island and go up to where my body was."

Nanaki twitched his tail, raising his head to peer at Seth. "Fire is the element of Phoenix," he murmured thoughtfully.

"But Phoenix shouldn't be able to do that," Aerin protested quietly, glancing over at Seth for a second. "I mean, I'm happy... but I don't understand. He was floating in the Lifestream, but that alone wouldn't have been enough to make it work... and we were on the other side of the continent."

"But Seth over there's up and breathin'," Cid said rather bluntly. "And if I'm understandin' the timing right, it happened right about when you summoned."

"The evidence that Phoenix had a hand in this is very strong," Vincent murmured.

Leaning tiredly against Aerin, Seth sighed. "Well, if anyone figures this out I'll be happy to hear--"

His sudden stop led to a brief moment of silence.

"Is something wrong, Seth?" Cloud asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"No... hang on... be right back..."

The gathered heroes watched, utterly bemused, as Seth got up abruptly and dashed out of the room. Moments later he returned, clutching the sheathed Masamune in one hand and holding it up as if it were a trophy. Which was perhaps not the wisest thing to do in the company of AVALANCHE, but nobody did much more than twitch slightly as he jogged back to the group, holding the sword hilt-up for display.

"Aerin, your charm," he said breathlessly, pointing to the adornment tied around the hilt. "You told me back at Mideel this was a Phoenix down, right?"

Aerin's eyes widened with sudden realization. "Oh, that's right! I put it back on your sword for... for your funeral..."

"They still require contact to work, however," Vincent put in.

"Does it have to be physical, though?"

Vincent paused. "I'm... not quite sure what you mean."

Seth grinned, tapping the hilt of the sword. "Masamune's a part of me. It has a will of its own, but it was connected to Sephiroth, and now it's connected to me..."

Aerin suddenly clapped her hands together, smiling in understanding. "You mean, the sword is attached to your soul! Am I right?"

/My, but she's bright. I think it took you longer than that/ the Masamune grated in Seth's mind. Seth cheerfully ignored it.

"That's exactly it," he said, grinning. "So if the Phoenix down was touching the sword, and the sword's actually stuck to my soul..."

"And your body was floating in the life essence of the Planet itself," Aerin added, smiling brightly with her hands together.

Cloud suddenly laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Incredible. You actually set up a lightning rod for Phoenix's magic without even knowing."

Seth sat down beside Aerin again, and she hugged him tightly.

"I thought it had to be some kind of miracle," she whispered. "But it was just a lot of wonderful coincidences...!"

"That's miraculous enough... don't you think?" Seth smiled, returning the embrace warmly.

"Oh, don't be getting mushy on us now," Yuffie teased gently. "Can't you do that on your own time?"

'This is our own time,' was Seth's first thought. 'Every second we keep living is our own time...'

But they obligingly pulled apart, looking a little bit shy.

Cid stood up then, stretching and working a kink out of his shoulder. "Well, if that's the whole story, I think it's just about time I find a nice place to land the ship so we c'n celebrate properly," he said gruffly, flashing a quick, benign smile at the children.

"I recommend Costa del Sol!" Cait Sith said promptly, raising his hand. "I haven't had a good vacation in months and that place is perfect!"

"Not like going there would change the fact that you're still at home in Midgar, Reeve!" Yuffie said, getting up and poking the mechanical cat in the nose.

Cait Sith waved her finger away. "Come on, this body's old but it's still got some decent sense receptors on it! At least I'll get to hear the sea and feel the sunlight!"

Tifa crossed her arms, chuckling. "You all do remember that I run a bar there, right? I'll make a great meal on the house."

Zair grinned, raising a hand. "I'm for it. I always wanted to taste Tifa's cooking."

"Yeah, it sounds great," Seth agreed, smiling over at Aerin. "This time it'll be a lot more fun, don't you think?"

"Definitely," Aerin giggled.

"Well, if everyone's agreed," Cloud said, looking over the group, "Costa del Sol it is. Nanaki? Barret? Vincent?"

Vincent merely shrugged in acquiescence, but Barret beamed and Nanaki gave a toothy grin, slowly wagging his long tail.

"Been too long since AVALANCHE got together over some 'a Tifa's home cooking," was Barret's contribution.

"Arright, I get it, I get it," Cid said, waving distractedly as he headed for the cockpit. "Costa del Sol. We'll be there in no time."

"I hardly need remind you all it'll be a dry party," Tifa said lightly, putting her hands on her hips. "Seeing as the guests of honor are all underage."

"Why, Tifa," Vincent said calmly, "you flatter me. I know I don't show my age, but I never imagined I looked too young to be drinking."

Zair, Seth, and Aerin simultaneously burst out laughing. Tifa raised one armored glove threateningly, but she was smirking.

"I ought to beat you silly for that, but I'll let it go because you making jokes is something I want to encourage," she remarked, before turning and walking out of the room.

One by one, the older members of AVALANCHE followed, Yuffie and Cait Sith still playfully bickering about Holy knew what, their earlier topic having been completely forgotten. Vincent lingered in the room with the children; as Seth moved to leave, Vincent put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"I want to talk to you," he said, to all three of them. They turned around, with some apprehension, to face him. He gazed back at them, his face unreadable.

"You did very well," he said at last.

As the three of them blinked and exchanged glances with one another, Vincent smiled. "I do mean that as honest praise, you know. Each one of you... you did better than I ever expected. You all played an important part, and it is because of your efforts that the Planet now has a chance to live peacefully, without Jenova to plague it. I am very proud of you."

Then, smiling, he stepped around and swept out of the room before any of them could manage more than a stunned smile.

-

Hours later, the sun long set and the party well wound down, Seth wandered down to the beach, enjoying the residual warmth in the air. His cape, along with Masamune, were stashed with his luggage. Even for him, the North Continent had been far too cold, especially with the thin clothes he'd gotten from Cosmo. Costa del Sol at night, though, was just about right.

Pale-skinned, white-haired and dressed in white, Seth nearly glowed in the faint light from the town.

Scanning the shoreline, making his way by landmarks, Seth finally saw what he was searching for. He walked over slowly, in no hurry, and stepped up onto the rock.

"Hey," he said gently.

"Hey," Aerin said back from her perch on the rock, smiling over her shoulder at him. She scooted to the side and patted the space next to her. Seth sat, dangling his legs over the edge.

"It looks a lot different now," Aerin said, thoughtfully.

"Hmm?"

Aerin laced her fingers together and looked up at the stars. "The last time we were here, I was poisoned... I couldn't see beyond how much I hurt, right then. It was a little better with you there to help me, but..."

"I remember," Seth said quietly, looking over at her with a frown. "I was really worried about you."

"Mm." Aerin bowed her head, eyes closed, and then looked up again. "But now... I'm fine, the Planet's going to be okay, and even the last reason I had to be actually sad is gone... you're here now. And everything looks beautiful." She smiled tenderly at him. "Now all I can feel is hope. It's going to be a good future, Seth."

"Yeah." He smiled back warmly, moving to hold her hand. She clasped back happily.

"You know, you can come visit me in Cosmo any time," she said hopefully. "Zion's your bird, you'll be able to keep him..."

"That sounds great," Seth said. "I'll be going back to Nibelheim, so it's not that far. You feel free to come to Nibelheim any time too, okay? I'll build an extra stall for Gypsum, even."

Aerin giggled. "I think I might have to take you up on that. I want to see Nibelheim, now that I know there's a Nibelheim to see."

Seth rolled his eyes at her teasing tone. "Yeah, that was an honest mistake, okay? I've got to admit I'm a little ticked that Vincent never told me he stopped the fire, but I guess I can understand why he was a little gun-shy with me."

"Well, I don't," Aerin said, frowning. "Anyone can see you're just Seth, if they look."

He grinned crookedly. "Then why'd it take me so long?"

"Because you worry too much," she said cheerfully. "I told you, but did you listen?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," he said, holding up one hand in surrender. "At least I know now. And AVALANCHE seems to get it too... with all of us."

"I hope so." Aerin bit her lip. "I know Cloud's clear on the difference, but I'm really worried the others will think of me as a replacement for Aerith... There was nothing wrong with her, she did good things and I'm proud to have been her... but I'm not her now, and that's all there is to it."

Seth nodded. "And I'm not Sephiroth. Whatever else is the same, we're different people, with our own lives and our own dreams." He laughed suddenly. "Which is good to know, because otherwise this would be really weird."

Aerin giggled. "That's true, our past selves didn't like each other much, did they?"

"Not really, no." Seth grinned.

"But I like you," Aerin said softly. Seth's heart skipped a beat, and he turned to face her, eyes wide.

The shock didn't last long, however, and he was soon smiling.

"I'm glad," he said. "I like you too."

Aerin fell against his shoulder, giggling. "Mom's not going to be happy about me having a boyfriend I've known for... what... a week?"

"I think she might just have to deal," Seth said, smirking a bit. "And my mom will probably be thrilled enough for the both of them."

"You've got to introduce me to your mom sometime," Aerin laughed.

Letting go of her hand, Seth wrapped his arms around her, chuckling. "She wants to meet you, so that can be arranged any time you want to come by."

"I'll look forward to it," Aerin said.

Seth happily kissed the top of her head, holding her for a long moment. Suddenly, he jerked away, reaching into his pocket.

"Oh - before I forget -"

He pulled the charm out of his pocket, brushed at the feathers a bit to uncrumple them, and held it out to Aerin.

"I did promise to give this back to you... the first time didn't seem to take," he added with a lopsided grin.

Aerin laughed. "Would you put it in for me?"

"Sure, pull your hair back..."

Aerin did so, gathering her hair into her old ponytail and holding it there. Seth took the leather ties on the charm in hand and carefully began to tie them around her hair.

"You know," he said softly, as he pulled the cords tight and knotted them together, "this did bring me good luck."

He dropped his hands, the charm securely tied into Aerin's hair. She turned, smiling, and their eyes met. For what seemed like a small and wonderful eternity, Seth gazed into her eyes without saying anything. Slowly, he brought a hand up to trace her jaw lightly, and then, cupping her face gently in his hands, he dipped his head.

Aerin slowly, languorously draped her arms around his shoulders and returned the kiss.

-

Zair flipped his knife open, studying the blade. It reflected back his own face, and the men standing next to him in the harsh light of the streetlamp.

"Thanks for helping me with this," Zair said to his companion without looking at him, testing the edge of the knife. "Should be sharp enough..."

"Not a problem," Cloud said, watching as Zair brought the knife to the nape of his neck. "I can understand where you're coming from."

"I'm glad," Zair said, closing his eyes, setting the angle for the cut. "...Time to say goodbye, I guess."

He brought the knife up in one quick, sharp stroke.

His ponytail came loose in his hand.

Flipping his knife closed and stowing it once more in his pocket, Zair shook his head and ran a hand through his now short hair.

"Much better," he said. "Man, I didn't realize how heavy it actually was..."

The corner of Vincent's mouth quirked. "Indeed."

Zair tossed the sheaf of hair to the ground of the alleyway. "Alright. Lemme see Master Magic for a sec, Vin."

There was a small click as Vincent extracted the green gem from its slot and handed it to the Midelian. Zair slotted it into the Hardedge, concentrated for a moment, and then muttered the appropriate incantation, flicking his hand towards the hair on the ground. It burned away quickly, and Zair returned the materia to its owner.

"Thanks again," he said. "So how's the rest of it look?"

"Slightly uneven," Vincent said.

"Like either of us can talk," Cloud said, smirking. "It'll do you until you get to Mideel."

"Cool." Zair ran a hand through his hair again. "You know, I don't think he ever actually wore it short..."

"Not as far as I can remember," Cloud said quietly.

"Good." Zair straightened his jacket and looked at the two men. "Well... here's to a brand new life."

"Live it well," Vincent murmured.

"I will." Zair looked at Cloud. "...I hope this is a good enough goodbye."

Cloud smiled vaguely. "That's up to us and the future, really. You were... he was always an important person in my life. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to let him go completely... but I think I can at least start, now."

"I think I can, too," Zair said, his voice low. "So... the chocobos are just on the other side of the bridge, right?"

"Yes," Vincent said. "Strife is already saddled and loaded. He will be expecting you."

If Zair was self-conscious about his chocobo's name being used so easily in front of his namesake, he didn't show it. "Heh... hate to keep him waiting, but I've got one last thing to do before I head out. One more goodbye."

Cloud laid his hand on Zair's shoulder. "Alright. I hope you won't make yourself a stranger... I think I'd like to get to know you, yourself. You're a good kid."

Zair quirked a smile. "Thanks," he said, and turned, heading out of the alley. He stopped momentarily and glanced back over his shoulder, seemingly searching for something more to say. Finally he just shook his head, smiling, and waved, disappearing down the street.

-

Having decided that they would eventually need to sleep and that it would be preferable to do so in the inn, Aerin and Seth had somewhat reluctantly left their secluded little perch and begun making their way through the streets.

Everything was suddenly new, exciting, confusing - Seth began to realize as they walked that he was painfully underexperienced in this sort of thing, and had no idea how he was going to be a good boyfriend to a girl that was a fair distance away even by chocobo. As wonderful and thrilling as this was, it was also mildly terrifying.

But the fear was, like many things, just another reminder that he was alive. Seth was appreciating those little reminders a lot now.

And if he had dealt with a talking sword, battle, poison, dead memories, a menace from the stars, and death itself and come out of it all okay, he felt fairly confident that somehow, he would manage a relationship.

For now, he was choosing not to worry about it - for now, Aerin was warm and soft against his side and her arm was around his waist and his was around her shoulders, and for now that was all he really cared about.

"Hey, you two."

Seth looked up suddenly, Aerin beside him doing the same. The last member of the three reincarnations was leaning against the inn's front wall with his arms crossed, smiling benevolently at them. They pulled apart, startled.

"Zair," Seth said, his mind slightly stalling out, "what the hell happened to your hair?"

"I cut it off, obviously," Zair said cheekily and pushed away from the inn wall, walking towards his friends. "Glad I caught you two before you turned in."

"What is it, Zair?" Aerin blinked. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no - actually, now I think something's pretty damn right." Zair grinned. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Are you going home?" Seth asked.

"Yeah... back to Mideel." Zair took a deep breath and sighed. "First, though, I'm heading to Gongaga to lay some things to rest. Then, straight home."

"What things?" murmured Aerin.

"Zax, mostly," said Zair seriously. "I'm always gonna remember, 'cos I clung to my memories like a stubborn bastard, but I've finally figured out that Zax is, you know, dead." He smiled sideways. "I've actually got you two to thank for that."

Aerin bowed her head briefly. "I'm sorry... it must have been a disappointment that I wasn't your flower girl."

"It's not your fault," Zair said. "Hey, don't worry about me. I'm fine. I'll be more fine when I get home and start making up with my parents."

Seth held out his hand, smiling. "Good luck, Zair. Have a great life."

"Hey, I'll keep in touch," Zair said, shaking Seth's hand firmly and grinning cheekily. "I'll try to forget about who we were, but not who we are. You don't just walk away from people you've saved the world with."

Aerin hugged Zair tightly. "You can visit any time," she said. "You know that, right?"

"And I probably will." Zair returned the friendly hug with only the smallest of pangs. "Meanwhile, you two... congratulations."

Seth coughed and turned pink in the face, not quite sure what to say, and Aerin giggled.

"Thank you," Aerin said, saving Seth from having to say anything. "I hope we'll see you again soon."

"We'll see," Zair said with a smile, turning away and waving. "I'll catch you later."

And moments later, he was gone.

-

Yawning loudly as he made his way to the Highwind's chocobo stables to feed Zion, Seth was the very picture of exhaustion.

His eyes still glowed faintly, but the immediate Mako reserves that had kept him utterly sleepless the night after his return seemed to have been tapped out. Last night, he had remained conscious just long enough to crawl into bed and curl an arm around Aerin, and had slept more deeply than he had in years. And even after having breakfast and getting all his stuff together, he was still tired.

When he got home, he decided as he pushed the stable door open, he was going to take a long, well-deserved nap.

And home wasn't so far away, now...

Blearily digging in his supply bag and handing slightly wilted greens to Zion, who seemed to take them quite happily despite this, Seth realized that the journey was finally over.

He'd ventured by ship and on chocobo-back over what felt like half of the damn Planet looking for Jenova, and had finally been one of the deciding factors in her defeat. He'd met every single one of his heroes, and now stood on roughly equal footing with them. He'd died, met his own father as well as Sephiroth's parents, and come back. He'd kept his promise to Lucrecia and Hojo, delivering their messages to Vincent; the gunman had gone very quiet, and thanked Seth in a surprisingly faint tone. His eyes had seemed to take on a new light afterwards...

And, Seth had fallen in love.

He wasn't sure "just Seth" was an accurate descriptor, anymore... the boy from Nibelheim who had never held the Masamune and never dreamed he might be anything more than an ordinary kid, was probably lost forever. In his place was a boy who knew what it was like to be a hero, and how it felt to save the world.

Seth didn't really regret the change.

All things considered, though, he thought as he finished feeding Zion and gave the black chocobo a scritch on the head, he was glad it was all over.

It was time to go home.

-

One by one, the Highwind dropped its passengers off at their respective homes.

Tifa simply stayed in Costa del Sol, wishing her old friends luck and a safe journey. Vincent had declined a ride, taking Mari off into the wilderness once more. Barret had been the first to be dropped off, then Cloud, Aerin, and Nanaki together. Seth had bid the three of them his momentary farewells, scratching Nanaki behind the ears, kissing Aerin goodbye and then being gently teased by Cloud. And then, they were gone and the Highwind was moving towards Nibelheim.

Seth lurked in the cockpit, feeling aimless and jittery. It was just Cait Sith, Cid, Yuffie, and him left, and he felt more than a bit self-conscious.

"Is this how you felt after you beat Sephiroth?" he said after a while. "Like... you weren't sure what was coming next?"

"Well," Cid said gruffly, looking up from the controls briefly, "we had our hands full for a pretty damn long time after that."

"That's right, rebuilding Midgar and everything," Yuffie put in. "Reeve can tell you some horror stories about that..."

"Please don't get me started," Cait Sith said, rubbing his forehead.

Seth shook his head, grinning. "Okay, so I guess it's my problem."

"Well, not totally," Yuffie said as Cid let out a loud bark of a laugh. She walked over to Seth and smiled at him. "I was about your age when we fought Sephiroth, y'know. And even though we were all really busy helping with Midgar, and generally putting things back together, there was always this sense of... well... when's the other shoe gonna drop?"

"Seventeen years later, apparently," Cait Sith commented.

"Shush, Reeve," Yuffie said, turning to the cat and then back to Seth. "We just had lots of stuff to do to keep our minds off it. So... if it's bugging you, just keep busy and before you know it, life will be normal again."

Seth looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled. "Well, I do have to build my chocobo a stable..."

"There you go!" Yuffie patted him encouragingly on the back. "You'll be fine."

"Yeah... Thanks, Yuffie," Seth said, smiling at the woman.

"Hey, it's what I'm here for," Yuffie grinning, giving him a thumbs-up.

"Hey, kid," Cid said suddenly, "we're just about to Nibelheim. Better go get your bird ready, I'm landin. Yuffie, help 'im out?"

"No problem, Chief," Yuffie said, getting up with a salute, and taking Seth's hand. "C'mon, Seth, let's get you home."

The last-minute inventory check, the quick goodbyes to the remaining AVALANCHE members, and the disembarkment all blurred together in Seth's mind; before he really knew it, he was on Zion's back and racing towards home.

This was it, then. The last distance he had to go.

The relief he felt was almost palpable when they passed through the town gate and the earth under Zion's feet changed to cobblestones. There were people out and about, who wisely parted before the huge bird trotting through the streets. Several familiar faces called out greetings, which Seth distractedly but happily returned. He did not slow Zion's pace until he came to his own street, whereupon he stopped and dismounted the chocobo as they passed his house. Unlatching the side gate, Seth carefully guided his bird through to the back yard. All the while, a little voice in his head kept going "Home, I'm home, I'm home, I'm finally home", like a triumphant song.

"This is where you'll be living now," Seth told his chocobo with a grin as Zion looked over the fairly expansive yard. "I'll get some real chocobo food for you as soon as I can, but until then... well, just avoid the rowan tree and we'll be set."

Zion cooed approvingly and waited patiently as Seth unloaded his bags and saddle before dashing forward to peck at a likely-looking stand of vegetation. Seth laughed cheerfully and proceeded around to the back door.

It was unlocked, so Seth let himself in, pulling off his boots before wandering in, slow and relaxed.

"Mom?"

"Seth?" Lucy's voice was slightly muffled. "Is that you?"

Following the sound, Seth found her in the front room, smiling as he entered. "Yeah, Mom. I'm home."

Lucy got up immediately and pulled Seth into a powerful hug. "Welcome home, sweetie!"

Seth felt ready to explode from sheer happiness. Over, it was over... Jenova was dead, the Planet was safe, he could go back to his old life now, though he would never, ever forget...

"It's good to be home, Mom," he said softly, then pulled away to look her in the face. "I've got so much to tell you... you won't believe half of it..."

"Ssh," Lucy said, putting a finger to her son's lips. "You can tell me everything later. I bet you're tired, and you're probably hungry too."

"Not really, I had something to eat before I came home..."

"Don't try and put me off, young man," Lucy admonished gently, tapping his nose. "You look exhausted. Why don't you take a nap, and I'll cook you a proper welcome-home meal. Don't argue."

Seth smiled, the last of any tension in him dissolving away. "I won't, Mom. That sounds great. Thanks."

Lucy smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Then shoo and get some sleep, silly boy."

Seth didn't say anything. Hugging his mother one more time, he wandered to the part of the room partitioned off to the bedroom and fell into his bed, barely thinking to shed his cape first as he crawled under the covers.

There was a lot to think about, but Seth felt all right leaving it be for now. The last thing echoing in his head before he fell happily asleep was Yuffie's words - "You'll be fine."

She was right, he thought as he drifted off. The Planet was safe... he had Aerin... he was home... everything would be fine. 


End file.
